


Constructive Criticism

by mediocrity_uwu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, College AU, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, a very important ship that is incredibly dear to my heart, art major!bokuto, bokutsuki, don't mess with akaashi, don’t say i didn’t warn you!!, homophobia tw, mild but present, the importance of friendship, tsukishima getting REKT, warning: there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrity_uwu/pseuds/mediocrity_uwu
Summary: Tsukishima is a jaded college student, not really sure what his major should be or what he's going to do in life, but definitely not willing to confront any of that.  Bokuto shows up and throws him a curveball he never would have expected and most certainly does not want.





	1. Chapter 1

Tsukishima had a new hobby: exploring the buildings on campus.

It was partly out of sheer boredom, and partly out of the desparate need to find somewhere he could do his homework while being simultaneously ignored by everyone around him and also privy to conversations no one thought he was listening in on. That was the goal, the perfect balance between maintaining his own privacy and giving himself opportunity for entertainment when the reading material got boring. Everyone has their way of studying, and that was Tsukishima's personal favorite: anonymous and full of unaired snark.

He was already tired of the library. Too many group project members desperately trying to somehow cobble together a cohesive product summarizing reasearch that had not been done. Hilarious as it was, the drama and power struggles acquired a degree of sameness over time.

He had sampled the various sciences and found their gossip wanting. It was a marked dichotomy of genuine research that went over his head this early in his college career, and the most asinine drivel he had ever heard. In the Psychology department, he had overheard a couple of grad students talking about drugging the rats with a myriad of illicit substances and seeing which would win in a fight.

"Obviously the PCP, Shinji. It would be the last one standing because it would take too long to figure out it's dead."

"Yeah but it also depends on the individual rat's fighting prowess."

Unbelievable.

The best selection by far was amongst the Liberal Arts buildings. So much drama. So many differing opinions, so many of which were very, very misguided. Like all students in their first year of college, Tsukishima had his own very firm idea of How Things Are, but at least he had the common courtesy not to share it. Good thing there was always a plentiful supply of college students who did not exhibit such decency.

Being able to mentally criticize people was a power everyone had, but not everyone seemed to relish it as much as Tsukishima did.

Today he was in the Visual Arts building. First impressions: a little on the sparse side. The business department had more appealing interior decor, ironically. Still, given the amount of students' works in various states of completion, there was quite a bit to take in, visually. It smelled of baking clay, paper, and paint. There were some classrooms which were clearly in use, and others that seemed to just consist of students working on projects without faculty supervision. He wandered for a while, and before he could draw too much attention to himself, he ducked into one of the free-for-all rooms, one that had long tables and ample conversation on which to eavesdrop.

To his absolute delight, no one cast him more than a single, customary glance when he walked in. He remembered reading somewhere that the key to going undetected was simply acting like you belong. On a college campus, it was as simple as sporting a pair of headphones everywhere and perfecting that dead-eyed shuffle that said "I rolled out of bed with two hours of sleep to my name, and if you think I'm going to put any more effort into this than I have to, then you are dead wrong." The shuffle came very naturally to Tsukishima, and his headphones were great but not too expensive, so he blended in well here.

He sat down at a table, spreading out his educational ephemera and getting comfortable. The headphones he slipped over his ears and faked choosing a playlist on his phone, leaving the volume at almost nothing. It made for a great way to ensure that no one was going to approach him. A studious kid just trying to do his homework and listen to music in peace? Completely invisible. He settled in and started going through his statistics practice problems, and as he fell into the repetition of it, he was finally ready to tune in to the local goings-on of this particular collegiate biome.

"...And I had to explain loss.jpeg to the entire class!"

"Well you know what they say, life immitates art, and art immitates memes..."

"Isn't it the other way around? Or wait, no, life immitates memes, you just remove the middle man."

"Delete art."

"A mercy killing."

This whole conversation was interspersed with snorting laughter. Tsukishima had picked the wrong time to tune in, clearly. He jotted down his observations in the margins of his notebook. "Do Artists Tend To Think They're Funny? More on this at 11..."

By the time he was done "observing" the atmosphere of the Visual Arts building in relation to how much it might liven up his studying, these were his notes: "Immaturity abounds." "It's 2019, how are we not safe from Rick Astley by now?" "Memes to serious discussion on the impacts of the 'common man's nihilism' and back to memes, I'm getting whiplash." And "Apparently, Neptune is in retrograde."

With the air of an accredited wine taster, he declared the Visual Arts center's conversational climate to be "Rich in content, if not necessarily in substance." He concluded that this would be a positive environment to return to should he be struck by a flight of whimsy, but perhaps better to be avoided on the average everyday study session.

There was something else he had noticed, something he had neglected to write down. Every time he looked up from his work, he found one particular student looking back at him, only to glance away when their eyes met. His hair was profoundly stupid, and Tsukishima found himself wondering how art students of all people could get away with such heinous crimes of fashion. Also, he never seemed to stop smiling, which Tsukishima found intrinsically suspicious.

He was talking to the guy next to him, a man with similarly awful hair, but at least his was all one color. Guy #2, who shall heretofor be referred to as Bedhead, was the only one in the room not actively working on some kind of project. He was playing on his phone while Guy #1, alias Human Disaster, muttered things to him excitedly.

Since Human Disaster was under the impression that he was listening to music and thus couldn't hear anything, Tsukishima caught a few things here and there. Things like "seriously cute" and "should I go talk to him?" and "bro be real with me how does my breath smell". All red flags. It was time to leave.

Tsukishima started packing up his things too late. Human Disaster materialized on the side of the table opposite him while he was struggling to shove his book into his bag. Internally, he weighed his options. What were the chances he could pretend he legitimately didn't notice this guy on his way out of the room? He kept his gaze down, eventually coming to the conclusion that if he couldn't just walk away, he would at least be able to finish packing and increase his mobility and thus likelihood of escape.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and looked up, pretended to be surprised, and pulled his headphones down around his neck. A moment of silence passed while he waited for Human Disaster to speak. The moment extended to the point of discomfort. He was just staring at Tsukishima with wide yellow eyes.

Okay, Tsukishima did not have to stand for this. He nodded politely and started walking away.

"Hey, wait," Human Disaster finally piped up. "Um..."

Tsukishima stopped and turned. He didn't say anything, but cocked his head to indicate he was listening.

"A-are you... Are you a freshman? I mean, what I mean is... I haven't seen you around the art department before," he managed to get out.

"Ah," Tsukishima nodded. "Yeah, I'm a freshman. Why do you ask?"

Human Disaster shuffled his feet, nervous smile stretched tightly on his face. "I just, um. Wondered what your major was? And how you're liking your classes so far?"

Oh no. He just wanted to talk. Sigh. Oh well, goodbye to an easy escape. "I'm undeclared right now," he admitted honestly. "I'm just trying to get some cores out of the way until I figure out which major interests me most."

"Oh! And you're thinking about being an art major?" Human Disaster asked excitedly. "They have a really great program here! Well, the intro classes aren't the best, but a lot of the upper level professors really know how to bring the best out of you. I've learned a lot!"

Tsukishima tried not to let his lip curl. The thought of actually becoming an art major was, well... _unsavory_ was perhaps a good word for it. But he was taking a photography class for an easy break, so maybe he could build off of that? He had to have some explanation for being in the Visual Arts building.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I'm mainly considering photography, or perhaps film. Traditional art is, ah, not my strong suit."

"Oh! Sure, sure, I get it. Photography is a lot more about the technical aspects of composition and stuff than the other art forms tend to be. And you look like the logical type." He smiled, and his yellow eyes crinkled at the edges. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. "My name is Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Tsukishima responded. There was a moment of pause, where Tsukishima internally debated whether or not he would offer his own name. When Human Disa-- Bokuto's patience extended past Tsukishima's comfort level, he muttered, "Tsukishima." A pause. "Kei."

"Ahhh, Kei-chan!" Tsukishima winced. "What a nice name!"

"Please, don't call me that," he begged.

"Oh, sorry! Is Tsukki okay?"

"No."

"Oh..."

"Ignore him, he's just extra friendly," Bedhead piped up, looking up from his phone. "And as long as we're doing introductions, I'm Kuroo."

"Nice to meet you," Tsukishima said politely. He saw his chance to leave, and he took it. "Now if you don't mind, I've got to get going..."

"Wait!"

Tsukishima paused and turned back to Bokuto, but Bokuto looked like he was struggling to remember why he had spoken up in the first place. "What is it?" Tsukishima prompted.

"It's, uh... I just..." he fumbled for words. "Oh! I hang out in this classroom to work a lot!"

"I see," Tsukishima said. He wasn't sure where Bokuto was going with this.

"And like, I'm really good with composition! Sooo, like, uh... If you ever need a fresh pair of eyes to look at your stuff, I'm here!"

Oh my. He was offering himself as an art tutor. Tsukishima struggled to think of an occupation more useless than that.

"He really is good," Kuroo spoke up again. "Check out his portfolio if you don't believe me. He's dabbled in photography a fair amount, too. Has a real flair for capturing his subject."

"Aww, Kuroo!!" Bokuto clutched his heart, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind. Well, I'll see you around," Tsukishima lied. He nodded to both of them and made a break for the door.

"Okay, yeah! See you around!" Bokuto sounded like this was so much more than he could have hoped for. He honest to god _waved_ at Tsukishima as he left.

Tsukishima lingered for a moment outside of the door, out of sight of course. He listened to see what they would say after he'd left, curious.

"Way to go, Bo," Kuroo congratulated.

"Oh my god, you were such a good wingman!!" Bokuto praised. He wasn't even trying to keep his voice down. Idiot.

"What about you? You were damn smooth out there, I barely needed to help at all."

"Do you think he'll really come back?"

Kuroo inhaled through his teeth. "I dunno, he got out of here pretty fast. Maybe try hanging around the dark room sometimes? He'll have to go there eventually."

Tsukishima balked. This Kuroo character was a sharp one. His chances of never encountering Bokuto again had just plummeted. Damn it. And it was too late in the semester to switch out of his photography class without loosing the credits and, by extention, a scholarship or two. Tsukishima bit his thumbnail. He was faced with two options here that he could see: roll the dice and just wait for Bokuto to eventually run into him again, or come back here sometime and take the inevitable encounter into his own hands.

"You're a genius, Kuroo! God, he was so cute. DId you see how--"

Tsukshima walked away, not interested in any observations Bokuto had to offer about how "cute" he was. He really didn't need this development. A pining artist is a horrifying thing. Artists are the kind of people who do creepy stuff like send you chocolate shaped like a real human heart because they think it's obscure and romantic. Tsukishima didn't need that level of weird in his life.

On his way back to the dorms he was required to live in his first year on campus, he thought about his two options. The prospect of waiting for Bokuto to appear out of nowhere was a frightening one. On the positive side, there was a chance they'd simply never happen to meet again. But it was far more likely that he would show up at some point, and Tsukishima would prefer to have the upper hand when that happened.

Sigh. That meant he'd have to go back at some point. It would at least give him an opportunity to shape the interaction and deter Bokuto from being interested in him. Tsukishima didn't need a moron for a boyfriend. He had plenty of stupidity around him already. It would just be a matter of acting amicable, but distant, waiting for Bokuto to make his move, and politely declining.

When he got back to his dorm, he greeted his roommates, Kuguri and Akama, then headed promptly for his room. The dorm was set up with one main area and three rooms branching off of it. Tsukishima deeply appreciated his personal space, small as it was. He set his bag down in the corner, and slid onto his twin bed.

He wondered if Bokuto would actually be able to help with his photography projects. At least then, he'd be able to get something out of this whole scenario. He should have at least taken a look at what Bokuto was working on before he left, to get an idea of what kind of art this guy was into, to see if he was any good. He'd been too focused on getting his ass out of there to check.

He put his headphones over his ears and actually put on music, turning his volume back up. For a while, he just laid there, letting the lyrics wash over him. Truth be told, he had already turned in on photography assignment and gotten a B. On a paper for a difficult class, it wouldn't have bothered him, but to get a B for taking a picture wrong? Really?

Art didn't make a lot of sense to Tsukishima. He could understand appreciating someone's talent at photorealistim, but abstract stuff? Picture taking? And what the hell even _is_ composition, anyway? He sighed. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. If he could get Bokuto to do all the artistic thinking for him... Tsukishima smirked. An A in photography had practically fallen into his lap.

Homework done, strategy formulated, music on, Tsukishima finally relaxed for the day. He eventually fell asleep, foolishly unaware of what he was getting into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh writing as Tsukishima is so refreshing! He's the asshole I'm afraid to be irl.  
for all my poor starving shippers of bokutsuki, this is my gift to you and also myself


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a contact print is a sheet of small photo thumbnails used to compare images side by side, to decide which ones to print  
it's a word I had to look up, so I wanted to make sure I included it before you read this. Thanks!

About a week later, Tsukishima returned, armed with more homework and even some contact prints containing photos he'd already taken. He still wasn't one hundred percent convinced that Bokuto could actually help him with anything, but he might as well give him the opportunity.

He walked into the same room, around the same time, and searched for the stupid head of hair. Bokuto had his back to the door, broad shoulders hunched over an easel with a large pad of paper on it, scribbling furiously. Tsukishima drew closer for a better look. He blinked in surprise. On the paper were a series of figures rendered in charcoal. And they were _good_. He personally watched, mesmerized, as Bokuto used big, sweeping motions to produce another in the bottom right corner.

Bokuto flipped the page, and that's when he looked up. Tsukishima had to resist the urge to laugh out loud because his face was positively _covered_ in black smudges, especially across his nose. His eyes were full of the hazy glaze of focus, but after a second they flooded with recognition and joyous surprise.

"Tsukki!" he exclaimed. "You came back!"

"Yeah... Um, you've got a little..." He gestured to his face.

"Oh, haha, whoops." Bokuto blushed and tried wiping at the area that Tsukishima had indicated with his hand. "Better?" he asked when he was done. The spot was now much bigger and darker.

"....Yeah, you got it."

"Thanks." Bokuto smiled warmly. "So what brings you back?"

"You said something about helping me with my photography class," Tsukishima reminded him.

"Oh! That!" He lit up. "You really want my help? I mean," he changed tack, crossing his arms proudly, "I _am_ amazing and it's not at all unexpected that you would want my help, really. I just didn't expect you back so soon."

"Right, well. I brought some examples of what I've already done." He pulled out the contact prints from his bag, along with a copy of the first photography assignment he'd turned in.

"Let me wash my hands before I handle these. Wanna spread out on one of the tables?" Bokuto suggested.

"Sure."

Bokuto left the room for a few minutes, while Tsukishima carefully laid out his things. The first assignment had been to take a walk and just capture anything and everything that caught your eye along the way, then arrange them in a three by four grid to create a kind of visual summary of that day and the place you went. He sighed. How could he have possibly gotten a B on that? It was literally just taking photos of whatever you felt like and having a fraction of competency at photoshop.

When Bokuto returned, his face was also clean, which would explain why he had taken so long. He was very clearly trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt. To hide or perhaps forget his shame, he came over to Tsukishima's side and started peering over the images on the table, studying them intensely. His expression changed quickly from one of sheepishness to one of concentrated observation. His lips pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he cocked his head back an forth as he picked the contact prints up to get a closer look.

He...he _seemed_ to be genuinely processing and evaluating Tsukishima's work. Tsukishima wasn't sure what there was to process. For his walk he had just strolled around campus. There was a lot to photograph, from people to buildings to like, trees and stuff. His pictures had a lot of variety. He didn't see anything wrong with them.

"Hmm. I see some potential here. You have a steady hand," Bokuto observed. Tsukishima's brow twitched. _Some_ potential? As in, not much? "The main problem I can see is there's not a lot of regard for how you're portraying the things you photograph. Do you think about how you want to shape the way your audience perceives the things you see?"

What. What did that even mean?

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand."

"Take this picture for example," Bokuto started, pointing at a thumbnail on a contact print. "That's the tallest building on campus. If I were to take a photo of it, I would want to emphasize how it towers over everything around it, maybe by taking the shot from far away, so you could see how it shapes the skyline. Or maybe get really close and take a picture looking up, to emphasize how big it is compared to me by the way it recedes into the sky. This is a decent picture, but it really doesn't have much energy to it."

Tsukishima's mouth fell open. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that.

"And another thing." Oh dear god, there was more. "This is your first assignment, right?" Tsukishima nodded. "There's little to no diversity in your images. One of the nice things about putting your pictures side by side like this is getting to see from different perspectives at once. The distance to your target objects is all roughly the same here, and there's little to no emphasis or cohesion with color, so it all runs together. And there's no focal point, so the eye is left without any direction or place to rest." He paused for a second to evaluate. "What did you get on this, a C?"

Tsukishima blinked long and slow in utter disbelief. "A B," he said through gritted teeth.

Someone snorted from across the room. Tsukishima whipped around so fast and glared daggers into the offender, a man with a slicked-back blonde undercut and piercings who quickly hid behind his canvas.

"Wow, that's pretty generous," Bokuto remarked. "But I guess it's a 100 level course, huh?"

Blondie outright snickered at that. Tsukishima felt he deserved an award for not running over and slashing his canvas.

"Tell me Tsukki," Bokuto turned to look him in the eyes, "do you like these photos?"

Tsukishima considered the question. He looked over the images and didn't really feel any sort of attachment to them. "Not really. I took them, but I don't really care about them one way or another."

"Maybe it's because you have no idea what you're doing."

Tsukishima bristled. A thousand retorts jumped to his lips. It was just taking pictures. Anyone could do it. He was just taking the class for an easy A, for something to make his GPA look good. Who cares if he was any good at it? Not that he was bad at it in the first place anyway!

Before he could unleash any of these heated remarks, Bokuto continued. "I've always been good at drawing, but when I got to college, I was getting grades that were good, but not stellar. And I was like, what the hell? I'm better than this! So I studied the crap out of what makes good art. Composition, the rule of thirds, use of negative space, the golden ratio, color theory. And before I knew it, the same teachers were holding my art up as examples for the entire class. I was untouchable! A painting I made is on permanent display in the Language Studies building!"

He paused, laughing and basking in his own accomplishments. Then he fixed Tsukishima with a golden stare that sent shivers down his spine. "It all depends on whether you have that moment, when something you create breathes life into the world, gives the viewer nostalgia for a life they never lived. If you have that moment, well," he paused for effect, putting his hands on his hips, "it'll really get you hooked on art. You'll never be able to go back to having idle hands." He clenched his fist. "Life demands that you capture it."

The room was silent. All eyes were fixated on them. The small-framed blonde girl in the corner started clapping, realized no one else was going to, slowed down, and stopped. Everyone else went back to their work.

Tsukishima was floored. He was dead on his feet. He was at a complete loss for how to respond; in fact he could hardly think. He looked down at the images on the table, seeing them suddenly as empty frames with nothing to show, nothing to say.

"What's your next assignment?" Bokuto prompted when Tsukishima continued his silence.

"It's- It's, ah..." He fumbled to regain conscious thought. "Capturing motion. With and without blur."

"Cool! Wanna meet up sometime to talk about composition before it's due?"

Tsukishima blinked. "Sure."

"Great! Hang on, I'll give you my number." Bokuto went back to his pile, ripped off a corner of paper, and grabbed a pen, then scribbled his number down. "Here you go." Their hands touched during the transfer. If Tsukishima had even a modicum less composure, he would have jumped through the roof.

"I know you're probably busy with other classes and homework and stuff, so just text me a time that works for you," Bokuto said jovially. "Does tomorrow work, or is the next day better? Maybe the weekend?"

"The next day...is good."

"It's a date then." Bokuto's boyish smile engulfed his entire face.

Recovery from here was impossible, so Tsukishima quietly packed his contact prints back into his bag and left. He had been planning on doing some homework here too, but couldn't bring himself to stay after being verbally dismantled like that. He trudged home, still in shock.

Given how awkward Bokuto had seemed on their first meeting, Tsukishima had expected him to have retained at least some of that today. You can't just...nonchalantly pick someone you have a crush on apart like a crow picks apart a corpse. Who the hell_ was_ this guy?

"'Life demands to be captured,' huh?" Tsukishima mused. He looked around himself, at countless other college students just like him, shuffling quietly along in their own worlds, at soulless brick buildings, at unforgiving concrete paths and trampled grass, and he found that he couldn't really see much life in all of it. Especially not any demanding to be captured.

He slipped his headphones on and put on something quiet. As he replayed the conversation in his head, it still gave him goosebumps. He felt so inadequate at something he'd never even bothered to care about. Yet somehow he also felt inspiration burning low in his gut. He felt an impetus, a force compelling him over a precipice he'd never noticed before and couldn't see the bottom of.

He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a heart drawn next to the phone number scrawled on it, and he snorted. Did this guy know how obvious he was being? Did he care? Tsukishima shrugged and tapped the number into his phone, saving it under the contact name Human Disaster.

As he considered what would be the best time the day after tomorrow to meet with Bokuto, Tsukishima found himself walking and smiling at the same time, something he rarely allowed to happen. He quickly pulled the corners of his mouth back in line, resuming his normal disinterested expression. "Stay amicable, but distant, and let him down gently," Tsukishima repeated to himself in his head. It was only a matter of securing himself an A in photography, then he and Bokuto could part ways.

And if today was any indication of how this affair would play out, that couldn't happen soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in two days! i'm on fire!  
i love fics that parallel canon, so i did it myself! uwu hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

They met at the library, which struck Tsukishima as an odd place to meet for art lessons. It turned out to be so Bokuto could pull examples of professional photography from reference books to illustrate the concepts they were talking about and how they could be applied. They went over basic composition principles, Bokuto doing the explaining with sketches and diagrams as much as words.

Tsukishima furiously scribbled notes in his photography notebook. Some of this stuff they had gone over in class, but it was much easier to understand the way Bokuto explained it, not assuming any prior knowledge at all.

"One thing I still don't get is," Tsukishima puzzled, dragging his thumb across his lower lip pensively, "why does this stuff work? What makes it better to put the focal point a third of the way from the edges instead of in the middle? Why does it matter that there even is a focal point?"

Bokuto, to his credit, was only blushing a little, eyes drawn to Tsukishima's lower lip as he bit it, sitting so close to Tsukishima as they crowded around the reference book that their shoulders touched. "I, um. To be honest, I don't exactly know," he admitted. "It's just something that artists figured out through the years, by stuff like looking at the art that was more pleasing to the eye and determining what made it stand out. It has a lot to do with how the human mind perceives things, physically and symbolically. There are some things we as humans intrinsically seek and crave to see on a subconscious level. Honestly, I've looked into it before, but it's all psychobabble to me. I just know that these strategies work, and can produce some seriously powerful images."

"I see," Tsukishima said hesitantly. "So to summarize, it just works so don't question it?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Huh." Tsukishima skimmed back over his notes so far. "This is all really good stuff. I didn't know there was so much, well, _thought_ put into this kind of thing."

"I _am_ a pretty deep thinker you know," Bokuto bragged.

Tsukishima looked up to glare at him, found himself centimeters from Bokuto's nose, and jerked backward. He'd been so focused that he hadn't noticed how close they had gotten.

Bokuto did the admirable thing in this scenario. "Ah! Sorry!" he apologized, scootching away a little. "I should give you your space..." His smile was sheepish, and his eyes were averted.

"It," Tsukishima stammered, unsure where to go from there. "It's fine," he found himself saying. Did that mean it was fine that he had gotten that close in the first place? Or that it was fine to continue being that close? He didn't know.

One way or another, as they went back to studying, Tsukishima was more cognizant this time of Bokuto inching closer little by little. It was very clearly because he was getting into his explanation, not out of anything intentional, so Tsukishima opted to let it slide.

They stayed in the library for hours, side by side hunched over books and notes. Bokuto was the one who finally broke the streak, stretching loudly and declaring that if he had to sit in one spot and _think_ for any longer he'd lose his mind.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Tsukishima reassured with a mollifying smile. "You can't lose something you never had."

"What the hell?? I've literally been tutoring you for the last three and a half hours!"

Tsukishima scoffed. "Yeah, at _art_. I'd like to see you take a stab at my stats homework."

Bokuto crossed his arms and sunk into a deep pout. He harrumphed and turned up his nose. "I don't _need_ to help you you know, you jerk!" he pointed out, poking Tsukishima in the forehead hard enough to elicit an ouch.

Tsukishima fought back laughter as he put away his things. Antagonizing was his favorite activity, and it was already obvious that Bokuto made it too easy.

"You live on campus, right?" Bokuto asked innocuously. "Which side?"

Tsukishima's hackles raised in suspicion. "Oh, on the north end," he said vaguely. A safe answer. That's where most of the dorms were located. He didn't need this guy knowing where he lived. "Amicable, but distant," he reminded himself.

"Oh cool! I have an apartment just past that end of campus. I can walk with you!"

Oh no. Tsukishima plastered a smile across his face to hide his panic. "Thanks, but I can make it home on my own just fine," he said, ever so amicable.

Bokuto's slicked up hair seemed to wilt out of sheer disappointment. He pouted again. "You don't have to be weird about it, it's just that it'd be dumb to walk in the same direction except 10 feet apart."

Damn it. That was a good point. Tsukishima shrugged and sighed. "Fine," he allowed.

Bokuto was practically skipping as they walked across campus. Classes were mostly over for the day at this point, so there weren't many other students milling about. Bokuto was running his mouth off the whole way, and Tsukishima didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it meant he didn't have to say hardly anything as Bokuto rambled on about anything and everything that was on his mind. On the other hand, he had to listen to it.

They got closer and closer to Tsukishima's dorm, and he kept wondering when Bokuto was going to peel off and head for his apartment. He kept by Tsukishima's side, not even seeming to pay attention to where they were going. Tsukishima clicked his tongue faintly. It looked like Bokuto would inevitably learn which dorm he was in. Well, it couldn't hurt that much, he reasoned, since it was five stories high and crammed full of other students. Really, it was hardly showing Bokuto where he lived at all.

"This is me," he said, gesturing to the building with a nod of his head. "Be seeing you."

"Yeah, see you around, Tsukki!" Bokuto waved and immediately turned around and started walking back the way they came.

"H-hang on, isn't your apartment north of campus?" Tsukishima demanded incredulously.

"What? Oh! Yeah!" Bokuto turned back around and continued the way the had been going, but it was far too late. "Bye! Good luck with your photography project!" He had the audacity to shove his hands in his pockets and beam at Tsukishima, as though he had done nothing wrong.

Tsukishima's face scrunched, mouth open in repulsed disbelief. Before he made any further judgement, he decided to try something. He walked through the glass front doors of his dorm, then turned around and watched back through them. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he again saw Bokuto walking back the way they had come. He stayed there and stared. Given the angle of the doorway, he was able to personally witness Bokuto getting at _least_ halfway across campus before he was out of sight.

Tsukishima's nostrils flared as he scowled deeply. Motherf- He had been tricked! Fooled! Bamboozled! Bokuto just oozed genuineness; he had never thoguht for even a moment that he would be lying about where he lived just to walk Tsukishima home. He stomped all the way up the stairs to the fourth floor and just barely resisted the urge to slam the door open. Akama was sitting at his desk on his laptop, and he looked up to see Tsukishima's face lined and sour.

"Dude, who pissed in _your_ Cheerios?" he asked.

"Some creep followed me home," Tsukishima spat through gritted teeth. It wasn't even really a lie.

"Uh, what kind of masochistic freak follows a 190 centimeter dude home?" Akama asked rather sensibly.

"I don't know, but he better watch his back, because next time I see him, there will be hell to pay."

Akama raised his hands as though afraid Tsukishima's wrath might be accidentally directed his way. Tsukishima marched into his room. This door he _did_ slam.

******

He didn't even wait. Right the next day, Tsukishima went into the Visual Arts building, fists clenched, and made his entrance quietly. Bokuto was there as ususal, sitting with his back to the door again, today accompanied by a student with a dark, wavy head of hair.

Now, Tsukishima was not typically a violent person. Things, he found, could generally be solved with clever thinking and a good dose of snark. But that didn't mean he wasn't aware of when someone deserved a good flick on the nose.

He walked up silently behind Bokuto, readied his middle knuckle, and rapped it against his head in the place he knew for a fact to be the most sensitive spot on the human skull.

"OW!!! What the FUCK?!? What was THAT for???" Bokuto whipped around to confront his attacker. When he saw it was Tsukishima, he quailed.

"You know damn well what it was for, Mr. I-Live-Just-North-Of-Campus." Tsukishima's glare was so icy the temperature in the room dropped three degrees.

"Um," the dark-haired man said, tired eyes wide. "Am I missing something?"

Bokuto whipped his head back. "Nothing at all!" he insisted with a nervous smile that give a reedy quality to his voice. "Don't worry about it!"

The dark-haired man blinked. He sighed and shook his head in resignation.

"Oh, I should introduce you, huh?" Bokuto gestured to the man beside him. "This is Akaashi. Akaashi, this is Tsuk-"

Tsukishima's glare cut him off before he could use that loathsome nickname. "This is Tsukishima," he corrected, cowed.

"Nice to meet you, Tsukishima," Akaashi said. His voice was friendly, but he didn't smile. He had dark circles under his eyes that spoke to long hours poring over homework rather than sleeping. Tsukishima trusted him immediately.

"I'm sorry this had to be your first impression of me," said Tsukishima with his most honest fake smile.

"Don't worry about it, I'm surprised I don't meet more people this way." Akaashi did actually grin this time.

"Akaaashiii," Bokuto whined. "You're supposed to be on _my_ side!"

"Ah, right." He looked back up at Tsukishima. "Please don't hit Bokuto-san. He's really quite delicate."

Tsukishima smiled for real as Bokuto spluttered helplessly, attacked from both sides.

"Well, I'm really just here to do homework today," he explained. "Please, don't be surprised if you talk to me and I don't answer; I prefer to listen to music while I work." He nodded goodbye and walked toward one of the long tables, slipping his headphones over his ears. It was time to eavesdrop.

"That's the guy, Akaashi," Bokuto stage-whispered when he thought Tsukishima couldn't hear him. "The one I was telling you about."

Akaashi hummed indifferently. "You have strange taste, Bokuto-san."

"Mean, if true." Bokuto giggled. "I got to walk him home yesterday," he bragged.

"Oh, so _that's_ what that was about." Akaashi managed to look impassive and impressed at the same time. "How underhanded of you."

"I think he found out I was lying, though."

"What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Akaaaashiiiii," Bokuto whined again. "He's soooo cuuuuute, and I think he hates me now..."

"From everything you've told me, it sounds like he's hated you from the beginning," Akaashi said. "I already get the sense he's the kind of guy who's always up to something."

Huh. Critical thinker, this one. Tsukishima had to give him props.

"Dude, your so gay," announced the blondie with the undercut from across the room. Tsukishima knew it was "you're" instead of "your", but he could tell that this guy didn't know the difference so he mentally corrected for it.

"Aren't you bisexual?" asked the brown-haired woman sitting beside him.

"Yeah, but that makes me only half-gay, Hana-chan. I'm not a purebred gay like this wiener."

"Terushima, I don't think that's how it works."

"It's _my_ sexuality so _I_ get to define it."

"Damn, he right doe," commented a guy with like, the reverse of frosted tips.

"See, Semi gets it."

"Shouldn't you not call Bokuto-san a purebred gay, though?" pointed out a blonde girl with a small frame. "That's defining _his_ sexuality for him."

"Yachi would know, she _is_ the purest and gayest of us all," commented Hana.

Yachi sighed, holding her head in her hands. "You're so right." Tsukishima could see what she was painting from where he was sitting. It was a portrait of a stunning woman with glasses and raven black hair that Yachi had interspersed with different colors, making it iridescent like an oil slick.

"You don't really think he hates me, do you?" Bokuto asked in a small voice.

Tsukishima could feel Akaashi's penetrating stare sear into him. It took everything in him to keep working like normal without so much as a pause.

"I don't think he hates you," Akaashi said slowly. "But I also don't think he's really listening to music right now. If I were you, Bokuto-san, I would be careful."

Oh.

Shit.

Tsukishima's breath hitched. He didn't look up, and he kept writing in his notebook for show, but really he was just printing a capital letter "A" over and over again.

After that, the conversation changed. Tsukishima actually went back to work and kept his head down, all the way until he got up to leave. Bokuto smiled and waved as he went by, but Akaashi just watched him go with those tired, angled, all-seeing eyes.

He would have to watch himself around Akaashi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do NOT mess with Akaashi. and ESPECIALLY do not break his best friend's heart.  
u better watch urself tsukki


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: if you're sensitive about self-doubt talk, maybe get some tissues ready before you read this one

Tsukishima found himself returning to that classroom often. After class got out for the day, he generally preferred to head toward the Visual Arts building rather than go back to his room. After Akaashi called him out for eavesdropping, he stopped putting his headphones on, and to his surprise, the other people in the room started like, actually including him in conversation. And in ways he didn't find entirely objectionable either.

The first time it happened was during a discussion about what the point of celebrating birthdays is. It was an oddly intelligent conversation given the absurdity of the premise, and some good points were made.

"Your parents were the ones who did all the work producing and then raising you," Semi was arguing. "So why should you get the presents? You haven't done anything. It's a celebration of the day your mom finally cleared out the parasite in her uterus and allowed it to start leeching off of her from the outside."

"If I ever have a kid, I'm getting myself and my wife a present every year, too," Watari agreed.

"Yeah, but they're just a kid. They deserve something to look forward to every year, whether or not they deserve it. It helps cement their concept of the passage of time, if nothing else," Misaki chimed in. She was the one who hung around Terushima all the time, for some godforsaken reason that Tsukishima couldn't fathom. "Tsukishima, weigh in here, what do you think?"

Tsukishima looked up, startled. Misaki was looking directly at him with a kind expression, waiting for him to respond. He thought for a minute. "I think birthdays are your reward for surviving as long as you have. That's something to celebrate."

"Hot take," commented Fukunaga. He only spoke in two- to three-word sentences and obscure references.

This sort of thing happened a couple times, usually with Misaki or Watari asking him for his contribution. After a short while, Tsukishima began participating of his own volition, without waiting for an invitation. He had been more or less accepted into a local pack of artists and art-adjacents. And Tsukishima was honestly pretty grateful for it.

It wasn't that he didn't have friends. He hung out with his roommates, Akama and Kuguri, on a regular basis, typically eating lunch with them. However, they weren't the most accepting people, he had found. And they didn't generally have anything interesting to say, mostly complaining about classes and talking shit about people of whom they shared a mutual dislike, which constituted a lot of people.

Naturally, he had also made a few acquaintances in classes. People he worked on group projects with, talked to in class, and could contact if he missed anything the professor said or wanted to study in a group. These people, though, were mostly the least-objectionable alternatives to having no lifelines in school. You had to have at least one contact in every class, otherwise when something went slightly wrong, you were screwed. They weren't really people you could talk to about anything else except in passing.

He did skype with Yamaguchi back home fairly regularly. Yamaguchi was one of the very, _very_ few people to whom he could actually say what he was thinking. He kept Yamaguchi updated on everything, with a huge emphasis lately on his Bokuto situation.

"You saying he's an idiot tells me nothing," Yamaguchi complained on the other side of the computer screen. "You think everyone is an idiot."

"Idiocy is a sliding scale. Many people are on it somewhere without even realizing it," Tsukishima said in defense. "This guy happens to be a ten out of ten."

"Bruh, that just makes it sound like you're saying he's super hot. Which I bet he is."

Tsukishima made a face. "Hot idiots are your thing, I prefer my men to have at least two brain cells to rub together."

"Mhmm," Yamaguchi hummed doubtfully. "So you say now. I'm just going to point out that you didn't even contradict me on the fact that he's hot. A sure sign that you're already falling down the hot idiot rabbit hole."

"That sounds like a disgusting euphemism and I am not here for it."

Skyping with Yamaguchi was great and all, but it hardly compared to having him actually here. There was something to be said for actually seeing your friends every day without having to set time aside to do so. It made a difference.

So finding himself in a new group of people on a daily basis, ones who not only seemed to enjoy his presence but also actually fostered interesting and inclusive conversations--it was more than he could have asked for. He wasn't going to be honest with himself and say that he had been getting lonely in college...but it was true. He had really lucked out, finding somewhere to get studying, social time, and even photography help all in one place.

Bokuto was getting more and more complimentary about his photos, too. There was always at least one photo on each contact print that he would find that he would point out and praise him over, explaining what made it good and talking about how to develop it to emphasize its good points, as well as having an open discussion about what might have made it better.

Things were going well, but at the same time, they were all too quickly approaching midterms, which made everything much more busy and stressful. The art students were all putting an excess of work into the final touches of projects upon which a large portion of their grade was dependent. Tsukishima had plenty of tests to study for as well. The conversational climate in their art room had dampened for the time being due to all the focusing going on.

Tsukishima looked up from his notes and gazed out the window. The last rays of sunshine had all but disappeared from the sky. The street lamps had turned on long ago. It was late. He should get going.

He looked around the room to find that nearly everyone had left. Only Bokuto remained, his face buried in his hands. His hair was falling far out of place, a sure sign he'd been doing nothing but running his hands through it in frustration all day. Tsukishima kept an eye on him as he packed up his things, but Bokuto didn't move a muscle. He was going to just walk past without saying anything but "goodnight", but as he got approached Bokuto's side, he noticed something that gave him pause.

On closer inspection, Bokuto appeared to be shaking. Faintly, hitched breathing could be heard emanating from behind his hands. Tsukishima stopped walking. He internally sighed, and found himself doing something he could scarcely believe.

He put a hand on Bokuto's shoulder. Bokuto jumped. He removed his hands from his face. He did not look up, but rather stared at a fixed point in front of him. Even with his face down, Tsukishima could see puffy red eyes, light reflecting off of tear-streaked cheeks, and a nose so runny it was briefly connected to his hand by a gooey tendril.

"Bokuto-san."

At his name, he _did_ look up, golden eyes so terribly wide and wet. "T- Tsukki... I-" His face contorted before he could continue, and Tsukishima watched as huge, luminous tears were squeezed out of his eyes. He made a move to wipe his face with his arm, but Tsukishima stopped him before he could.

"I'm going to get some paper towels. I'll be right back."

When Tsukishima came back, he found Bokuto bent over in his chair, a puddle of tears and snot having formed on the floor beneath him. He handed the roll to Bokuto, and Bokuto immediately accepted and started making use of them.

Tsukishima didn't know what to do as Bokuto loudly blew his nose, only to start sobbing anew. He didn't even know why he was still here, since he generally avoided emotions like the plague. Maybe it was because there was no one else here, and leaving Bokuto to sob alone in an empty classroom was...cruel, even for him. He just pulled up a chair and sat next to him, figuring he'd wait until Bokuto said something.

Over time, Bokuto's gut-wrenching cries became fewer and further between. His breathing settled down. Eventually, he had sunk into a posture and expression of simple exhaustion, so wracked from crying that he couldn't feel anything else. That's when he started talking.

"One of my major projects... I've been working on it for over a month now. I've poured so much time and effort into it, and it's basically done now, I just have a few finishing touches to put on it. But today, I," he paused to sniff, "I looked at it and just, irrationally hated it. After all this time, it feels so lifeless, so technically good but emotionally empty. I can't turn that in, I just can't look my teacher in the eye after all she's done for me and hand her..._that_," he finished with disgust.

Tsukishima didn't know what to say. He didn't know what the project looked like, so he couldn't say anything to the contrary. And even if he had seen it, it's not like his words would really mean anything, since so far everything he knew about art had been explained to him by the broken man before him.

Bokuto broke the silence again. "I just... I think it's good, really I do. On some level, I know, it's not a bad painting. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's just today that it's garbage. One way or another, I've spent all of today just running away from my own feelings, and it's exhausting. I'm so tired. And I don't want to go back to my apartment, where it's waiting, mocking me."

Before he could stop himself, words were bubbling to Tsukishima's lips. "I can-..." They got caught in his throat the first try. He tried again. "I can walk home with you. If you want," he offered.

Bokuto looked up at him for the first time since Tsukishima had said his name. His yellow gaze was so piercing, Tsukishima couldn't look away. Two tears dropped down in offset tandem from his open eyes and slid past his open mouth. Tsukishima wanted to take back his offer--maybe it wasn't his place, maybe he had set Bokuto off all over again, maybe--

"Yeah. I'd like that," Bokuto whispered, interrupting his maybe's. There was even the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Tsukishima helped him pack up. It was well into night now, and stars could be seen studding the sky as they walked toward Bokuto's apartment. The whole way, neither of them said a word. Tsukishima didn't know what was going on in Bokuto's head, but he had stopped crying. He figured it was better not to start any conversation. If Bokuto wanted to talk, he would.

They stopped at Bokuto's front door. Bokuto set his things down for a moment, perhaps to make opening the door easier. Instead, he caught Tsukishima off guard by turning around and embracing him in a huge, tight bear hug. His face was buried in Tsukishima's shoulder, and his arms encircled his narrow torso snugly. After a few seconds, Tsukishima gave up and leaned into it, resting his hands on Bokuto's broad, muscular back. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to like, pat him gently, or what. The hug went on far longer than he was really comfortable with, but Bokuto clearly needed it.

"Thank you." Bokuto's words were muffled by Tsukishima's shirt.

Tsukishima flushed and tensed. He could feel Bokuto's lips move against his shoulder. "I, uh. I didn't really do anything. You don't have to thank me."

"You stayed with me. And you listened. That's more than most people would do." He sighed, and turned his head so his ear was resting on Tsukishima's shoulder, facing away from his neck. "People have been trying to cheer me up all day," he confessed. "But sometimes nothing works, and I feel like I have to pretend to feel better so my friends who try to help don't feel like failures. Sometimes it's nice to just have someone not expect anything from me. I dunno."

They stayed like that a little while longer. Tsukishima wasn't sure what to say. He just wrapped his arms further around Bokuto and waited.

Eventually, Bokuto pulled away. He wiped his eyes and sniffed. "Sorry, I think I got your shirt wet..."

"It's fine," Tsukishima reassured him. It was almost laundry day anyway.

"I'll see you later," Bokuto said, effectively dismissing him as he fumbled in his pocket for keys.

"Yeah, see you." Tsukishima turned to leave. He paused, and looked back over his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Bokuto-san."

He didn't look back after that. He put his hands in his pockets and started walking. He could feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he blamed it on the slight autumn chill in the air. Before he knew it, he was back at his dorm, barely able to remember the walk.

He wasn't sure how to feel. He wasn't sure what to think. But he also didn't regret anything he'd done. Briefly, he wanted to call up Yamaguchi and talk to him about what had just happened. Somehow, though, that felt wrong. His gut told him that he should avoid telling anyone about what had gone down tonight. For Bokuto's sake.

That night he fell asleep thinking, deep into a series of restless dreams full of the soft, warm smell that had clung to his clothing well after parting from Bokuto's embrace, none of which he remembered upon waking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy to bring Yamaguchi into this finally. Incidentally, this may or may not take place in the same universe as Let Me Bring You Back To Earth, Star Child, my first fic centered around Ushijima&Yamaguchi, after Ushi n Yama are already settled together. My writing has gotten a lot more polished since then, so go back and read it at your own risk, lol. For those of you who read Star Child and liked it, I hope you find this fic! There will be a couple nods back to Star Child as we go along, mostly just a few snippets of Ushi n Yama interaction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so this turned into something more like an exploration of my headcanon that Tsukishima does not know how to handle people genuinely liking him.... let me know what you think

It was only a matter of time before someone from the art group asked Tsukishima to come with them and Do Something. An official rite of passage into a friend group, Doing Something had the following defining features: it had to happen outside of school- or study-related social spaces, it had to involve three people or more, and it had to put Tsukishima outside of his comfort zone.

Terushima was having a get-together at his apartment that met all of these criteria. He was talking in the classroom about which stupid party games they should play and what idiotic movie they should watch. Misaki interrupted him halfway through a sentence. "Tsukishima, why don't you come, too? You're such a good student, always studying... You seriously need to let your hair down every once in a while."

"You can't just invite people to someone else's party!" Terushima whined.

"How many people are going to be there?" Tsukishima asked, mostly to piss Terushima off more. "I'm not crazy about big parties."

"Basically just everyone in this room, along with Yachi's 'special friend' Shimizu, and Watari and Akaashi, who just so happen to not be here today."

Tsukishima considered it. "I can do that. It's this weekend?"

"Yeah. Give me your number, I'll text you the details and how to get there." She pulled out her phone and opened up the contacts list, tapped the "add" button, and passed it on to Tsukishima, who punched his number in and handed it back.

Bokuto was practically bouncing in his seat. He probably hadn't thought he could get away with inviting Tsukishima himself. Misaki was the only one Terushima wouldn't shut down immediately.

"Can we talk about how she called Shimizu Yachi's 'special friend'," Kuroo pointed out.

"Oh my god let's not?" Yachi begged.

"Man, you still haven't asked her out?" Semi asked, sounding disappointed. "What did we talk about?"

"I don't even know if she likes girls," Yachi said in defense.

"Yacchan, when you showed her that painting she started _crying_. She's mentioned that she likes the way you _smell_." Terushima shook his head. "But go on, keep telling yourself she ain't into you."

Yachi just squealed and buried her face in her oversized-sweater-clad arms. "I am so gay and so fragile."

While everyone was picking on Yachi, Tsukishima watched Bokuto whisper something into Kuroo's ear. A shit-eating grin spread across Kuroo's face. He nodded and started muttering something back. Tsukishima longed for his eavesdropping days. He wanted to know what nonsense they were planning for him, but it looked like he would have to wait until the weekend to find out.

Fast forward to that weekend, and he was standing outside the door to Terushima's apartment, debating whether or not to knock on the door. This was his last chance to turn around and just...not subject himself to this crap.

Then he felt an arm around his shoulder, and his last shred of hope flew out the window. "Well, well, welllll, look who it is, Akaashi!" Kuroo's voice came from beside him. "Our good friend, Tsukishima, having second thoughts."

"Something wrong, Tsukishima? You've been standing at the door for a while," Akaashi commented.

"N-nothing's wrong," Tsukishima insisted, pushing his glasses up on his nose to hide his discomfort. "I was just trying to remember which apartment number it was, to make sure I had the right one before I knocked."

"Sure, sure," Kuroo nodded with a smirk. "Well, we've been here before, so you know you've got the right one."

Tsukishima looked around. "Where's Bokuto-san? I assumed he'd be coming with you guys."

Kuroo and Akaashi shared a meaningful glance. "We don't like to subject him to both of us at the same time _too_ often without at least one more person as a buffer," Akaashi explained. "It tends to make him feel like the third wheel. And there's nothing that gets Bokuto-san down in the dumps quite like feeling left out."

"Third wheel?" Tsukishima repeated. "I didn't realize you two were--"

Kuroo cut him off. "You've never seen us in one place at the same time, right? I bet you thought we were the same person," he guessed conspiratorially.

"I don't think that was his first assumption, Tetsu."

_Tetsu_? Tsukishima snickered. Kuroo wrapped his other arm around Akaashi's waist and smiled the most genuine smile Tsukishima had ever seen on his face. Then he went and said, "Someone knock on the door, I got my arms full of bitches."

Tsukishima and Akaashi reacted in about the same capacity. Tsukishima shrugged him off in disgust, while Akaashi jabbed him in the side to free himself. While Kuroo was recovering from the attack on his ribcage, Akaashi knocked on the door.

They were greeted by Terushima. "Oh cool, y'all are here. Come on in, not everyone has shown up yet."

Terushima's apartment was decorated with punk paraphernalia and odd art pieces, and his main living space consisted of a total of four different couches and one of those circle bucket chairs. Semi and Fukunaga turned out to be his roommates, from what Tsukishima could tell.

Bokuto was already there, and he excitedly waved Tsukishima over. He _was_ sitting on the least objectionable looking couch, so Tsukishima decided to oblige and join him. He sat down a respectable distance away, and Bokuto didn't test that.

"The only people we're waiting on are Yachi and Shimizu," Bokuto explained. "You haven't met Shimizu yet, but she's really cool. Kinda quiet. I think she's a business major of some kind? Whenever I see her, she's dressed to the nines, like she's got an interview or a presentation or something."

There was a knock on the door. Yachi and a beautiful woman with glasses and straight, dark hair emerged from behind it. Like Bokuto had said, the woman who had to be Shimizu somehow managed to make jeans and a frilled blouse look extremely classy. Yachi in her typical paint-covered neon pants and oversized shirt made for an interesting contrast.

"You already know pretty much everyone but Tsukishima," Yachi was explaining, playing with her hair as a nervous habit. "Tsukishima, this is Shimizu-san." Shimizu nodded in greeting. Tsukishima nodded back.

"All right y'all, everyone's here so let's get this party started," Terushima announced. "We gots three movie choices for tonight and all of them are foreign horror flicks because some idiot let Fukunaga pick. If anyone has an issue with that, we default to _Airplane_."

"Which horror film does Fukunaga recommend?"

"I already asked, and he said that _REC_ is a pretty scary zombie flick, _Goodnight Mommy_ has a twist and makes you think, and _The Babadook_ is apparently a gay icon. They all have their good points, and they're mostly jumpscare-free, too, for all you sissies out there."

"Since when is the Babadook a gay icon?" asked Watari.

"You've clearly seen the movie, wouldn't you know?"

"I've only seen gifsets of it, so not really."

"Okay, one way or another, it doesn't really matter," Terushima broke in, "'cause first we gonna play motherfuckin Pictionary."

"Booooo," Kuroo shouted through cupped hands. "Some of us aren't artists, you know. That's hardly fair."

"We'll split you up evenly, don't worry. Anyway, it's more fun if you suck!"

Tsukishima couldn't believe he was here with a bunch of other college students playing Pictionary, of all things. To his surprise, Terushima didn't even mandate that it be a drinking game, although there was alcohol available for those who wanted it. Tsukishima definitely wasn't complaining, it was just hard to believe.

When it was his turn, he drew the word "meatloaf". He stared at his card in disgust. Then someone started the timer, and he sighed and started drawing frantically. He attempted to render a cow next to a loaf of bread while his team shouted guesses.

"Pig!"

"That's not a pig, it's a horse!"

"No, it's got horns now, it's a cow!"

"What is that? Bread? Cow bread?"

Tsukshima drew a line cutting the cow in half.

"Why would you do that to the cow?"

"Half-cow, half-bread!"

He drew an arrow pointing inside the cow.

"A cow that ate bread and is dying!"

"Beef on rye."

"Meat bread."

"LOAF, it's MEAT LOAF!"

They actually got it right before the timer ran out, by which point Tsukishima had been gesticulating wildly and gone through the five stages of grief. Watari, who had correctly guessed the answer, leapt out of his seat and came over to give him a double high five.

He sat back down, relieved to no longer have the spotlight. It was much more fun to shout guesses and piss off the person trying to draw. "This is so stupid," he muttered to himself.

"You're so into it though," Bokuto, sitting beside him, insisted while elbowing him in the ribs. By this point, the couches were pretty full, so they were forced to sit with their legs touching to accommodate everybody.

"Hey," Bokuto said quietly, leaning in closer. "Thanks for coming. I'm sure this isn't really your scene."

Tsukishima opted for honesty here, even with himself. "It's better than my usual Saturday night plans," he shrugged. Then he decided to test the waters. "Why do you care so much that I'm here, though?"

"Uh, because I _like_ you, dumbass," Bokuto said, emphasizing his words by poking Tsukishima firmly in the middle of the forehead. "You're fun to hang out with, and you pretend not to be a nice guy, but I see right through you," he went on with a wink.

Tsukishima, to his embarrassment, blushed deeply at that. He turned away so Bokuto couldn't see, hoping he wouldn't notice the tips of his ears turning red, too. Bokuto had a way of just being so honest and straightforward that seemed to squeeze past all of Tsukishima's defenses. And it seemed to only get worse the longer he knew Bokuto. He had to stop giving him the opportunity to be upfront and sweet like that. Was it getting hot in here and also when did he become so aware of how much their thighs were pressed against each other?

"Alright, chucklefucks, it's Babadook time," Terushima announced after the other team incorrectly guessed the word "cheddar".

"Since when did we decide we were watching _The Babadook_?"

"Since you losers couldn't stop arguing about which horror movie villain is the biggest gay icon, that's when. We gonna figure out what the internet is on about."

"You promise it's not gonna have jumpscares?" Kuroo asked from his place in the circle bucket chair where he and Akaashi were somehow sitting in each other's laps. "My boyfriend is one of those sissies you mentioned earlier. OW!" Akaashi smacked him upside the head.

"The Babadook...is safe," Fukunaga declared in his oddly ominous manner, the first thing he had said all evening since screaming the correct answer of "leather" during Pictionary.

"There you have it, folks, the Babadook is safe."

It turned out not to be a particularly scary movie in Tsukishima's opinion, although it was rather well done. Bokuto, on the other hand, turned out to be another one of those sissies Terushima was talking about. Tsukishima found himself quite snuggled against as Bokuto cowered during the tense parts. He didn't want to draw any sort of attention to himself, so he just sort of let it happen.

After the movie ended, there was a long discussion about the Babadook's gay icon status. Tsukishima groaned internally as it got more and more heated. By the time Misaki had challenged Yachi to a lightsaber duel over the Babadook's honor, procuring two plastic lightsabers from god knows where and throwing one at Yachi only to have Shimizu intercept it and take on her challenge, Tsukishima was so done.

He got up to leave. Terushima heckled him from behind. "What, you're going already?" He lowered his voice suggestively. "We haven't even played Seven Minutes in Heaven yet."

Tsukishima was appalled, and it showed on his face.

"Hah! I'm just messin with you. This isn't a fuckin post-quinceañera slumber party, and we're not prepubescent tweens. You got pretty damn red, though. What, you like someone here?" He had the nerve to sound genuinely interested.

"Fuck off," was Tsukishima's apt, if evasive response. A chorus of "Oooooh" followed him out the door, which was followed shortly after by "Tsukki, wait!" and then "Go get him, Bo!"

Naturally, Bokuto ran to catch up to him as he started on the walk home. Tsukishima chewed on his bottom lip, knowing just what this must look like to the group of people he had begun to consider his friends. He wondered if they all took Bokuto's crush on him as an elaborate joke and were just waiting for the punchline. He waited, retort ready on his tongue for the moment when Bokuto asked to walk him home, to be alone with him.

"Tsukki, hey," Bokuto said, grabbing his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he spat out. He wrenched his arm free of Bokuto's grasp.

Bokuto didn't try to touch him again. He cocked his eyebrow in concerned disbelief and sighed. "Listen, don't let Terushima get to you, he just has rude bitch disorder and is still in recovery from the surgery they had to do to remove his head from his ass."

"It's not about Terushima," Tsukishima corrected. "I'm just tired. I felt like going home, so that's what I'm doing."

"Okay." Bokuto wilted. "Did... You had fun though, right?" he asked hopefully.

Tsukishima scoffed. "Does it matter? All that's important is that everyone else was having fun, at my expense."

"Whoa, what are you talking about?" Bokuto actually sounded affronted at that. "Everyone really likes you, you know. I've been there when you weren't, and the only things that anyone had to say about you was how cool and smart you are."

"What makes you so sure about that?" Tsukishima challenged. "How do you know they're not just watching me around you, waiting for something to happen?"

Bokuto looked like he was about to start sweating heavily. "Something to happen?" he repeated.

Tsukishima gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to stop it from coming out, but before he knew it the words were already past his lips. "I-"

"NO." Bokuto interrupted him just in time. "No. I know these people. I know they're not just watching us like some kind of live sitcom," he insisted. "They like you. They care about you, even though they barely know you. They care about me, too." His voice got soft. "If they're watching for any reason, it's to do everything they can so that neither of us gets hurt."

Tsukishima felt heat rising behind his eyes, and he quickly shoved it back down. Bokuto stopping him from saying something that could damage their relationship before it even took concrete shape. These people he barely knew who were already looking out for him. Actually being invited here in the first place to make him feel included and cared for. It was a lot to take in, and Tsukishima was not even remotely emotionally competent enough to deal with it.

"Please," Bokuto asked in a quiet voice. "At least come say goodbye to everyone properly. It's rude to just storm out like that, on your friends."

Swallowing hard to make sure he didn't choke on the next word out of his mouth, Tsukishima said, "All right." And he followed Bokuto back into the apartment.

Oh what a fool he had been.

"Everyone! Tsukki needs a big group hug _right now_, don't let him escape!" Bokuto shouted, blocking the door.

Misaki and Shimizu looked up from their lightsaber fight that was somehow still going on. Yachi and Kuroo were the first to get to him, pouncing as though they had been waiting for this moment, Kuroo serving the purpose of physically restraining him while Yachi made it impossible to even fight for his freedom for fear of hurting the only genuinely good person he had ever met. The whole group piled on eventually, and Tsukishima was experiencing a depth of suffering he had not previously thought possible.

Eventually, he was released, and sent out into the night with an extra coat thrust upon him because he looked "skinny and therefore cold", according to Shimizu. He wasn't sure whose coat it was, but it smelled awfully familiar.

Regardless, he walked home through the cold autumn night, just chilly enough to make his breath come out in front of him in cloudy puffs. He looked up at the overcast sky. Tonight could have gone a lot worse, he reckoned.

He put on his headphones, turned on something sappy and disgusting, and walked home warmed on the inside and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terushima has some of my favorite lines in this whole fic  
also, shimizu doesn't even speak in this and I would die for her


	6. Chapter 6

Tsukishima had a new hobby. It involved spontaneously abandoning his real homework to go on long walks with an idiot and take stupid pictures.

It started one day when he walked into the art building, sat down at his usual table, and set up to do homework like normal. That's when he froze, staring at the book in front of him as all the words turned into gobbledygook before his eyes, and he was flooded with the desire to throw it out the huge glass windows and then jump out after it.

Instead he did the responsible thing and just slammed it closed and shoved it so hard it flew off the other end of the table. No windows were broken. Even the book was fine, probably. Super responsible. Everyone in the room _did_ look up, though, and Yachi jumped like twenty feet into the air.

"Ohoho! A mental breakdown from the sanest among us?" Kuroo sounded proud and impressed. "It's more likely than you think."

"Yeah, Tsukki! Eff the system!" Bokuto stood up and broke his brush over his leg.

"What the- What alternate dimension did I walk into today??" Semi demanded.

Tsukishima left all of his stuff and just started walking for the door. He didn't know where he was going to go, but he had to get away from responsibility today. Tsukishima was simply being too good of a college student, and as every too-good college student knows, sometimes you just need a break.

"I'm comin with ya!" Bokuto announced, running over to Tsukishima's stuff and grabbing something before following him out the door.

Yachi, surprisingly, also stood up. "This is my sign!" she announced and similarly started running for the door, abandoning all of her things.

"Where are _you_ going?" Semi cried, flabbergasted.

Yachi turned around before the doorway and shouted, "To tell Shimizu-san I love her!"

She turned back and immediately ran into Shimizu right outside the classroom, knocking both of them over and spilling the two cups of iced coffee in Shimizu's hands everywhere. "Hitoka-chan..." Shimizu murmured incredulously as their eyes met.

There was so much going on behind him to unpack, but Tsukishima kept walking, Bokuto close on his heels. Finally outside, finally in the fresh air, they fell into a fast walk, heading away from campus and into a nearby park separating the campus from downtown.

Tsukishima heard a click from beside and a little behind him, but chose to ignore it. When it happened a couple more times from various angles, he stopped walking. Bokuto didn't react fast enough and bumped into him from behind. Tsukishima flipped around to glare at him. He watched through narrowed eyes as Bokuto, face blank and innocent, held Tsukishima's camera up in front of himself without looking through the aperture and pressed the capture button.

"What... What are you doing with my camera?" Tsukishima demanded, reaching for it only to have Bokuto snatch it out of the way.

"You're clearly having some kind of episode. What better time to capture the essence of life through film?" Bokuto said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Give it back." Tsukishima thrust out his hand insistingly.

"Promise you'll use it," Bokuto countered.

"It's _my_ goddamn camera!" Tsukishima made another swipe for it, but Bokuto was too quick for him. A brief scuffle ensued. Tsukishima was slightly taller than Bokuto, but Bokuto was stronger, so he didn't get far. Eventually Tsukishima had to back off because all the physical contact of grabbing, pushing, and just generally putting their hands on each other's bodies was making him...uncomfortable. Especially when Bokuto was smiling and laughing and clearly enjoying the act of tormenting him.

"Fine, I'll take some damn photos," Tsukishima finally conceded. Bokuto held out his camera, and he swiped it before the asshole could change his mind. He immediately flipped the camera around and took Bokuto's picture.

"Hey! I wasn't ready yet! Give me some warning so you can get my good side," Bokuto whined piteously.

"You took pictures of _me_ without warning."

"That was because you were caught up in the throes of passion!"

*Click.* Tsukishima took his picture again. "Oh, sorry, your whining inspired me," he mocked. "I got caught up in the throes of passion. I just had to capture your essence."

"Whatever," Bokuto rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Just, keep going wherever you were gonna go, and take pictures when you feel like it."

"I will, thanks," Tsukishima shot back tersely. He started walking again, Bokuto following behind like a lost puppy.

The soft green grass and dappled shade gave way to cracked concrete and high, high walls as they left the park and entered the city. Tsukishima stopped. He sighed, and took a picture of the way forward, then the way back, then the ground beneath his feet where the transition occurred. He tried not to look at Bokuto, who was probably getting a big head about him actually using the stupid camera.

They strolled through urban streets, Tsukishima occasionally pausing to take pictures, mostly without even looking through the aperture to see how they would turn out. It wasn't like he was trying to take good photos. He just clicked the button at whatever caught his eye. Bokuto asked for the camera a couple times, usually to take pictures of dogs at the owner's okay.

They stopped in a tea shop Bokuto recognized and had been to before. They both walked in and stood in line to order bubble tea. Tsukishima was happy to learn that they had strawberry, his favorite. When they got their drinks, they picked out a table outside and sat down.

Bokuto announced he had to take a whiz and got up to find the restroom. After waiting long enough to make sure Bokuto couldn't possibly be watching him, Tsukishima took out his camera, focused in on the two colorful drinks on the wire table, and snapped a pic. He had made fun of people who took pictures of their food before, and the fewer people who knew that he was an absolute hypocrite the better.

Bokuto came back, having seen nothing, and they sat in silence for a while, drinking their tea. After a while of Bokuto shooting him worried glances, Tsukishima finally broke the silence.

"Do you ever get sick of running around in circles?" he asked.

Bokuto blinked. "Do I what?"

Tsukishima sighed. "Do you ever feel like everything you're doing right now is just going to send you slamming into a brick wall eventually, and you can't see anything around it?"

Bokuto paused to unpack some of that. "I guess I don't think about the future a lot, so I don't know."

Tsukishima stared down at his nearly empty cup. He rested his head on one hand and played with the straw. "My major is undeclared. I'm going to college because it's what's expected of me. It's not like I resent being here, I just don't know which direction to take. I don't know which choices will eventually result in me being happy with my life."

He could feel Bokuto's eyes on him, but he couldn't imagine meeting them after saying that. Bokuto didn't respond right away, allowing plenty of time for Tsukishima to regret everything that had just fallen out of his mouth.

"Are you happy now?" was what he eventually came up with. Tsukishima blinked, considered the question.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not _un_happy, I suppose." He looked up at the buildings towering over him and felt small. "How... how would I know if I were happy?"

Bokuto inhaled through his teeth. "That's a tough one. Actually, I don't think most people are truly happy on the whole. Everyone has bad and good days. What really matters, if you ask me, is going to bed every night without dreading tomorrow, and without regretting anything you did today."

Tsukishima did meet Bokuto's eyes now. They were reassuring and full of concern. Tsukishima cocked his head and hummed, then averted his gaze. Okay, that was enough. No more being vulnerable. He would take the time to process Bokuto's words some other day.

Reassuring words alone were enough, for now.

They finished the rest of their drinks in silence, then Tsukishima got up to leave. Bokuto followed, as he had been doing all afternoon. It was quite the walk home--he hadn't realize just how far from campus they had gotten. On the way back, his camera rested, unused, against his chest, suspended by the strap around his neck. His so-called "episode" was more or less over, and he didn't feel like there was anything worth capturing at the moment.

They both almost started heading toward their respective homes, but then Tsukishima remembered that they had left all their stuff in the Visual Arts building. Even though it was well into the evening, after classes were out, Bokuto could fortunately still use his student ID to get into the locked building. The classroom wasn't even locked, so they were able to start gathering up their things.

The puddle on the floor where Yachi had knocked Shimizu over was gone now, leaving no evidence of the drama that had taken place there. Everyone else had left long ago. The final rays of sunlight streaking through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated dust particles dancing in the air. Tsukishima picked his dropped textbook up from the ground. It felt like forever ago that he had shoved it off the table.

He set it in his bag, chasing it down with his notebooks and pens. After closing his bag, he sighed and paused to stare out the window at the nearly empty campus. A moment turned into minutes. He found he couldn't move, transfixed by the sheer pointlessness of leaving this one spot, by his own unwillingness to let today's whimsical abandonment of responsibility and foresight end without a fight.

He must have been taking too long, because Bokuto appeared at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look and there was that concerned look in Bokuto's golden eyes again. It threw him right back into that moment of vulnerability, and his bottom lip twitched.

Bokuto's gaze was drawn to the movement. He snapped it back up to meet Tsukishima's, and a light pink color spread across his face immediately. It deepened into crimson as Tsukishima did not break eye contact.

"Go to bed not regretting anything you did today," Bokuto had said to him from across a tea shop table while the sun never paused in its voyage across the sky. Tsukishima considered his words. He considered his options here, trapped in this amber moment of sunset and silence and warmth radiating from the hand on his back, and realized there was only one option available that he wouldn't go to bed regretting.

He leaned in slowly. Hesitantly. Afraid to take this step.

Bokuto's eyes widened. For a second, he retreated at the sheer unexpectedness of it. But when it looked like Tsukishima wasn't going to make it the full distance, he darted forward and completed the odyssey for him, meeting him halfway.

Their lips touched. Briefly, a mere glance of contact. Then again, this time with firm intention behind their unity.

It was a soft, slow, seemingly endless open-mouthed kiss. Bokuto's hand that wasn't on Tsukishima's shoulder found its way to his jaw, tracing the outline of the bone underneath and pulling him in deeper. Tsukishima didn't know what to do with his hands, so he rested them on Bokuto's back and found himself rubbing them up and down so much that he accidentally hiked up Bokuto's shirt and could feel the soft, warm skin beneath.

By the time they parted, the final rays of sun still illuminated the sky, but no longer shone through the window. The ambient light was pink, the color of civil twilight. Tsukishima didn't even think. He lifted up his camera in front of him and snapped the picture.

Fortunately, he was fast enough to capture Bokuto's face before it twisted into shock and disgust. Actually, on second thought... He clicked the button again while Bokuto was still in the process of recoil. Then again as his expression switched to irritation.

"Cut that out!" Bokuto insisted, reaching to avert the camera's lens from himself. Tsukishima lifted it out of reach and snapped another picture. The tables had turned. This time, though, their fight over the camera ended in...another kiss.

Bokuto gained the upper hand when he unexpectedly introduced tongue, startling Tsukishima enough to give him an opening to snatch the camera.

"Aha!" he shouted triumphantly, gleefully snapping shot after shot as Tsukishima tried to get it back.

Eventually, Tsukishima sighed. "I'm not about to break my own camera, so let's call it a draw and we'll put it away."

"Fine," Bokuto conceded, disappointed. Then he thought of something and smiled slyly. "Whoever got the ugliest pic of the other wins."

"Deal." A pause. "What does the winner get?"

"The winner gets to pick what we do for our first date."

Tsukishima snorted. "Bold of you to assume I'm agreeing to date you."

Bokuto looked disappointed, then huffed, crossed his arms, and declared haughtily, "Bold of _you_ to assume I want to date you in the first place."

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"I just figured that _you_ wanted to since _you're_ the one who kissed _me_!"

"It was completely mutual!"

"Yeah, but you leaned in first!"

"Whatever," Tsukishima finished packing and slung his bag over his shoulder. "It was an impulse thing, I regretted it instantly."

"Liar," Bokuto accused with a shit-eating grin. "You did it again like a minute later!"

"That was you, trying to take the camera from me. _You_ kissed _me_. Or did you already forget?"

"I don't exactly remember you trying to fight me off, either..."

"I'm going home," Tsukishima said, heading for the door dismissively. "Have fun with your delusions."

"Tsukki, wait!"

Tsukishima looked back to find Bokuto next to him, face scrunched up with nerves. "O- One more?"

He looked so hopeful. Tsukishima could hardly just deny him. They had already kissed twice, anyway, one more couldn't hurt, right?

He leaned, slowly, starting to close his eyes, the last thing he saw being Bokuto's eyes full of surprised, unfiltered joy...

Then he put his hand over Bokuto's entire face and pushed. "Save it for our first date." He turned and walked away without another word, waving so that Bokuto could see from behind as he left. It was nice to know that Bokuto, left sputtering and stammering in his wake, was unable to see the grin spreading from ear to ear on Tsukishima's face.

Tsukishima fought the glowing feeling radiating from his chest the whole way home. He made sure to force the smile off his face every time someone walked past him. He told himself he _wasn't_ the happiest he'd been in months, he _wasn't_ walking on air right now, he _hadn't_ been hoping for this for ages.

Tsukishima was a good liar, but tonight he wasn't able to to fool himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen,,,, i have written some intimate moments and a fair amount of smut,,,, but none of that,, NONE of it made me feel like i was interfering on a private moment like This Kiss Right Here,,,, too hesitant, too pure,,,,, im crie


	7. Chapter 7

Tsukishima brought one of the contact prints from that day into the Visual Art building, having organized the thumbnails to best compare his and Bokuto's respective shots. In his mind, there was a clear winner, but it was only fair to get the opinion of Bokuto and at least one neutral party.

He handed the contact print to Akaashi first. Akaashi, of course, had heard of the bet and was aware of what was at stake here. He knew how essential it was to be completely impartial.

"Tsukishima wins," he announced.

"WHAT!?" Bokuto could scarcely believe it. "Let me see that!" He took hold of the contact print and scoured it, looking for one that stood out as the clear winner. Much to his disappointment, he found it immediately. It was his own face, bearing an expression that could only be described as extremely meme-worthy. It was hideous, had the perfect amount of blur, projected the perfect amount of absurdity. The ones he had taken were mostly too blurry to be any good.

Bokuto sighed. He'd said from the beginning that Tsukishima had a steady hand. How it sucked to be right all the time!

"You win this round," he conceded, then whipped around in the most dramatic fashion possible to point at Tsukishima in a declaration of ongoing challenge. "But don't you dare get cocky!"

"Oh we're well past that," Tsukishima smirked.

"Choose your prize wisely," Akaashi advised. "Make sure you don't squander this golden opportunity."

"I don't intend to," Tsukishima replied ominously. He had spent much of his time since that night, while he was getting the film developed, and all the way through today coming up with the perfect date idea to make Bokuto regret ever challenging him in the first place. Naturally it had to be one he could enjoy at the same time. His options were limited, but he thought he had come up with a solid one.

Tsukishima flashed Bokuto a look so sadistic he honest-to-god shuddered under its intensity. "Come on," Bokuto laughed nervously. "It's one date, how bad could it be?"

"Famous last words," Akaashi muttered.

"Picture this:" Tsukishima started, gesturing grandly. "A trip to the local art museum. I, a humble, uneducated fool who has never taken an art history class, get to proclaim my extremely incorrect ideas about every piece that strikes my fancy."

"This doesn't sound so bad," Bokuto remarked tentatively. "I can listen to you being wrong for a few hours."

"I wasn't finished yet," Tsukishima went on. "You, Bokuto Koutarou, are required to support every bit of nonsense that comes out of my mouth to the best of your ability. If I look at a painting that's just a few colorful squares and say, 'Ah yes, the peak of Renaissance art,' you have to not only agree, but use every bit of knowledge you have to back up my egregious claim."

"You want me to betray everything I've learned all these years, _and_ use my brain??" Bokuto adopted a fighting stance, lifting his arm in front of his face in defense so that only his eyes peeked over it. "Not only that, but you dare invoke the power of Rothko's technicolor rectangles for this petty feud? I admire your pluck, foolish though it may be."

"This reads like a weird 80s anime fight, where they have to explain what's going on while it happens," Akaashi commented. "No wonder it took you so long to get together if _this_ is how you were flirting."

The responses of "We're not flirting!" and "Which one of us is the anime villain?" came at the same time.

Akaashi was unfazed. "I know flirting when I see it. Also, neither of you is the anime villain, Bokuto-san. Tsukishima is clearly the anti-hero and your rival."

"Ugh, that makes so much sense," Bokuto grumbled, ceding his point.

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses to cover up his uncertainty of how to feel. On one hand, it was odd to be called the anti-hero of an 80s anime, but on the other hand, _finally_ somebody gets it!

While he was packing up for the day, Akaashi approached him and asked for a minute to talk with him. Tsukishima got up and followed him into the hallway.

"So," Akaashi started once they had relative privacy. "Bokuto-san mentioned you kissed him first."

"For fuck's sake, it was _mutual_." Akaashi just looked at him with those tired eyes, not having it. "Well, okay, I might have started leaning in first, sure," he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes.

Akaashi sighed. "I'm going to cut to the chase here. What exactly are your intentions with my best friend?"

"My- My intentions?"

"Because if you're just using him, for sex or personal fulfillment or whatever, well," he paused to fix Tsukishima with a glare that froze the very air between them. "I suggest you start running now, if you get what I mean."

"I'm not-"

"I don't want to hear it," Akaashi cut him off. "I want to see it for myself. I just wanted to let you know that I'd be watching."

Tsukishima swallowed dryly. "Noted."

"Good. I'm glad we got that out of the way. Just," he sighed again, voice softening. "Whatever you're doing now is making Bokuto-san so happy. So if you could keep doing it, I'd really appreciate that."

Tsukishima didn't say anything, he just nodded in understanding.

When he went back inside to grab his things, he happened to meet Bokuto's curious gaze on the way. Briefly, while packing up, Tsukishima wondered if he would even know if he was using him for personal fulfillment, what that would mean. Then a tiny part of his brain went, "What about using him for sex?" and Tsukishima felt his face get so red that he had to leave the room immediately, unable to meet anyone's eyes lest they somehow guess the impurity that had flashed unbidden through his head for a fraction of a second.

It was perhaps worth noting at this point that Tsukishima was not completely inexperienced. He had been perhaps a little more promiscuous than he should have been toward the end of high school. And during the year he'd taken off before college, he'd had a few flings. But to even imagine doing the same thing with the goofball with stupid hair who dressed like a bizzare fusion of a modern hipster and the height of 80s culture and who broke through his defenses like the Kool-Aid man through a brick wall, well... It's not like the thought was repulsive, it was just... You know... And that Akaashi honestly thought that he might...? No. No no no.

Come to think of it, he _had_ technically planned from the start to "use" Bokuto to get him a good grade in photography, which he had done quite well. But it's not like that was still the goal! If that was all he cared about, he'd have cut and run long ago. No, Tsukishima was still around because, well. Lately, he had started to _feel_ things. Things he hadn't ever particularly felt before, like, like, like his insides were full of honey, all sticky and squishy and sweet and disgusting at the same time.

Did...did starting to date Bokuto mean that he had to actually _confront_ all of this? Determine how he was really feeling, what he really wanted, and consider how it would impact their relationship? After what Akaashi had said, it seemed dangerous _not_ to. He turned to Yamaguchi for advice.

"...You're asking me how to properly _feel things_?"

"It just comes so naturally to you, I figured you'd have some insights."

"Well you'll have to start from step one."

"Which is?"

"Probably recognizing that feeling things isn't inherently 'disgusting' as you keep putting it."

"That sounds impossible, so I'll skip it. Next step."

"Okay, what about ignoring your impulse to hide everything you feel and just...talk about what you're thinking in a stream of consciousness? That could help."

"Equally impossible, my impulses are there for a reason. Next."

"The next step is to stop shooting everything down as 'impossible' and actually accept some goddamn advice."

Talking to Yamaguchi got him nowhere. His uncertainty and discomfort lasted all the way until he was sitting next to Bokuto in the bus on the way to the art museum. What's more, for some reason he found himself incapable of hiding it, like he normally would, under clever words and fake smiles. Bokuto clearly noticed he was uncomfortable, because he asked.

"Hey. Be real with me," he said while looking straight forward and down at the bus floor. "Is something wrong?"

Tsukishima surprised himself by answering almost immediately, "Yes."

Bokuto chose not to follow up with a question, instead waiting for Tsukishima to go on of his own volition. They sat in silence as the stop for the art museum came and went. Bokuto did not stand up and tell him they were going to miss their stop, so Tsukishima took it to mean that it was okay if they didn't go today. They could always wait through the bus's half-hour route until they came by the same stop again.

"I'm sorry," Tsukishima started when he felt ready. "I just...don't feel like being wrong about art today." He wasn't sure how to put into words what he was really feeling, but it was at least a start, a stab at honesty. And Bokuto still wasn't even looking at him, which for some reason made it easier.

"Hey Tsukki. Can I ask you something?"

Uh oh. That was a loaded question already. But Tsukishima took a deep breath and nodded anyway.

"For our first date," Bokuto asked slowly, "why did you go out of your way to pick something I would like?"

Tsukishima chuckled at that. "The point was supposed to be that you wouldn't like it."

"First off, it's an art museum, so no matter how much you try to torment me there, you were still clearly taking my preferences in mind," Bokuto pointed out. "And second, I'm pretty sure that as long as you're having a good time, I'd enjoy myself, regardless of what we're doing."

That was far too sweet a sentiment for Tsukishima to handle, and the implication that he himself was being sweet and considerate in the first place? Unheard of. "Hmm," he pretended to think to cover up his discomfort. "I guess I'll have to come up with something that I hate too, if I want to really torment you."

There was a pause, filled only by the gentle swaying of the bus and the "ding" sound that accompanied each next stop that shone in yellow letters on the ceiling where everyone could see.

"Hey, Tsukki?"

"Yeah?"

Bokuto's voice was soft. "What kind of date would _you_ like to go on? That is, what I mean to say is... I feel like you just kind of go along with what I like to do, or with what our friends want to do. When you have the chance to do whatever you want, and no one else to take into consideration, what do you do?"

It was true, he wasn't a fan of forcing his hobbies on other people. Part of that was because most of his favorite activities weren't really condusive to groups. "I guess..." he mused, "I watch weird movies. And listen to music. Lots of music. I like reading and responding to reviews online. It's a good place to discuss the deeper layers of what I listen to and what I watch." He grimaced. "None of that is really date-worthy, though."

Bokuto was careful not to get too excited, afraid of disrupting the strange, intangible connection between them right now. "If you want," he suggested, "we can go back to my place and listen to some music--your pick, a playlist, an album, whatever--and just listen and not talk. If that's okay with you."

Tsukishima stiffened as he felt the hand he had settled on the bench between them suddenly covered by a warm, rough palm. Bokuto went on. "I want to know what kind of things you like, too. And I want to be a part of them, even more now that we're actually going to start dating."

Tsukishima looked up to see Bokuto still facing forward, still not taking the risk of shattering this moment. He laughed, half genuine, half nerves. "That sounds like the shittiest first date ever, just listening to music together... My idea was better."

"Yeah, but you don't feel like being wrong about art today, so we're not going to do your date," Bokuto reasoned. "We'll just call today our second date and hold off on the first one, so you can still get your reward."

"That doesn't make any sense..." Tsukishima griped. "But okay. Let's do it."

They got off at the closest stop to Bokuto's apartment. Tsukishima knew where it was, but still hadn't seen inside. He had expected it to look like a hurricane had torn through it, but it was actually rather orderly, if cluttered. There were lots of bookshelves, and the walls were well covered in overlapping posters and canvases. The furniture was well-matched, but also clearly not from the same set.

"Akaashi is technically still my roommate," he explained. "He spends most of his nights at Kuroo's studio apartment, though. Sometimes they spend the night here too, but it's just a matter of time before Akaashi moves out completely, and I'm stuck with the task of finding a new roommate again. Hang on, I know I have a headphone jack splitter somewhere..."

As Bokuto searched the apartment, Tsukishima flipped through his phone for the right music. How to best to introduce Bokuto to his odd, eclectic tastes... "How do you feel about sad songs?" he asked.

Bokuto, sifting through a box of electronics, hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I guess I don't listen to a lot of sad songs. Sometimes I still cry when I hear 'Mr. Brighside' come on, though. Like, he says he's 'doin just fine', but then she's touching his chest, now, and stuff. Does that count?" He pulled out a small black object. "Hah! Found it!"

"So you're saying if I play something even slightly sadder than The Killers, you'll start crying?"

"I guess?" Bokuto handed him the headphone jack splitter, and he plugged it in to his phone, followed by the end of his own headphones. "It would depend on the song, I suppose. But don't not play something just on account of me! Feeling things isn't always bad. I really like 'Mr. Brightside', even though it tests my manly fortitude."

"What if I were to play you an album that has, at one point or another, made _me_ cry?" Tsukishima posited while Bokuto plugged his own headphones in.

"I would first off not believe you at all, and then I would insist upon taking the challenge."

"Perfect."

They sat down on the couch rather than the loveseat. Tsukishima was still fond of his personal space, especially since they were alone together in an otherwise empty apartment. He hit play on the first song on the album, making sure it wasn't set to shuffle. The album was by The Weakerthans, a folk punk band from Canada, and it was titled _Reconstruction Site_.

As Tsukishima had expected, Bokuto started getting a little teary-eyed around song two, and Tsukishima took his headphones off for a second to grab the tissue box from across the room, knowing it would only get worse from here.

By the time the album was over, Bokuto had bridged the gap between them by leaning all the way over so his head was on Tsukishima's forearm, and there was a pile of used tissues spilling off the table.

"Oh my god, I have accessed emotions today that I did not know existed," Bokuto declared. "Can we listen to it again, but this time you have to be able to hear me so you can answer every question I have?"

Tsukishima blinked. "Sure, do you have a good speaker?"

"Yeah let me get it."

They listened again, and this time Bokuto insisted upon having his head in Tsukishima's lap for emotional support. It felt odd to talk about the lyrics and what they meant with a real human being instead of a computer screen with opinions. He was sharing thoughts that no human ear had heard spoken in his voice before. And Bokuto had so many opportunities to disagree, or laugh, or otherwise exploit the ability to hurt him in this moment of vulnerability, but he didn't. He just listened and asked questions with wide eyes and open ears.

When the album finished a second time, Bokuto sat up quickly, startling Tsukishima who had at some point taken to running a hand through his thickly gelled hair, because this whole thing was already pushing his boundaries and he felt he might as well lean into it. Bokuto swiveled himself around and scootched his entire self closer and closer to Tsukishima on the couch.

He settled down well inside of Tsukishima's personal bubble, practically in his lap, and Tsukishima really fought hard not to retreat. "Hey," Bokuto said when they had achieved a kind of stasis. "This was a really good date." He paused, expression blank and innocent. "Furthermore, since it was entirely my idea, you should thank me, with a kiss."

"You can't just instruct someone to kiss you," Tsukishima muttered, the only valid argument he could think of.

"How are you planning on thanking me for my brilliant idea, then?"

Tsukishima felt his entire face heat up immediately.

Bokuto backpedalled just as fast. "Oh, no no no, I didn't mean-!" He was blushing just as hard. He covered his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, it's just. I've liked you for so long, and now you're actually opening up to me. I don't want to screw this up, but I can't seem to stop!

"I-" Tsukishima stammered, feeling clueless and embarrassed too. "I have no idea how a real relationship works. I've only ever been with people I don't care about before. I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, at all."

Bokuto peeked out from between his fingers while Tsukishima was talking, and now he dropped his hands. "Really?" he asked.

"Really"

"So what you're saying is, you care about me?"

Tsukishima's face scrunched in discomfort. "I don't think that's what I said."

"I think it was."

"Nope."

"Can I kiss you now?"

He pretended to think about it, to be hesitant. "I suppose."

It started out awkward and uncomfortable, but Tsukishima eventually relaxed as they made out on the couch.

It probably wasn't the best example of being upfront and honest, but at least it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was weirdly hard to write, possibly because the Akaashi conversation threw me for a loop as much as it did tsukki  
we got maybe one more chapter before the Big Angst happens, so enjoy the fluff while you can!!  
Additionally The Weakerthans are amazing, and i would recommend them especially if feeling things and crying are your favorite hobbies


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so wrong, the angst is happening NOW, BRACE URSELFS

Everything was going so well.

Eventually they went on their "official" first date. It was exactly as fun as Tsukishima expected it to be.

They stood in front of an odd sculpture sprawling across the center of the spacious room. It seemed to depict a long-necked creature with no head and was covered in thick, brown fur. The further they got into the museum, the more Tsukishima came to peace with the fact that he did not understand art and never would.

"This is such an interesting piece," he commented. Bokuto groaned reflexively. He'd had to fabricate so much information already that his brain was starting to hurt.

"Michelangelo was so ahead of his time," Tsukishima said with the inflection of surprise. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but he's the only artist who was ever allowed to make sculptures, right?"

"That's right," Bokuto agreed, having stopped complaining ages ago. "After he carved the Pietà, the art police decided that all future attempts at three-dimensional art were illegal, because the peak of sculptural art had already been achieved. This piece we see here was from one of his later, more experimental phases, probably sometime around 1920, just before they finally allowed him to die."

"Of course, of course," Tsukishima cupped his chin and nodded intelligently. Then he made a point of walking over to a painting hanging on the wall in front of which another person was already standing.

The painting was done in muted colors and seemed to depict hazy, dark figures in the distance. It took up a great deal of vertical space and was rather unnerving, especially when seen from across the room.

"Do you like this piece?" he asked as he approached the woman standing directly in front of the center of the painting.

"Eh?" She turned around, clearly unsure if he was talking to her. When she realized he was, she looked back at the painting and thought for a moment. "I don't _dis_like it. It's a little creepy, though, don't you think?"

"It's a beautiful example of the Existential Dread movement, isn't it?"

The woman turned back around, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Bokuto-san, would you mind explaining the Existential Dread movement for our edification?"

Bokuto looked like he would like nothing less than lying through his teeth about an art movement that never existed to a complete stranger, but he was honor-bound to do so. "Uh, yeah, it's really a subgenre of Pre-Postmodernism that also takes heavy influences from the ideals of Dadaism, like the intrinsic meaninglessness of the modern world? The Existential Dread movement seeks to explore the true depths of discomfort that can be achieved in human existence."

"Thank you so much for that, Bokuto-san. I'm really quite surprised you've never heard of it, ma'am."

The poor woman didn't even try to contradict them. She just nodded and smiled before walking away.

Bokuto waited until she was out of earshot to air his concerns. "Okay, making shit up for your personal listening pleasure is one thing, but I'm not lying to another random person who's just trying to have a nice, quiet afternoon."

Tsukishima was reveling in his power. "Let's try to find someone who will argue back," he suggested, tapping his fingers together like a supervillain.

"This entire experience is performance art from the Existential Dread movement," Bokuto whined.

In the end, Tsukishima took pity on him and didn't force interaction on any more museum-goers. It was preferable to not be kicked out of the art museum for harassing its patrons.

Most of their dates were more low-key. They went to Bokuto's apartment rather often just to watch movies or listen to music, and also sometimes just to hang out. Their relationship had a relaxed dynamic, and Tsukishima appreciated not being rushed into anything.

His newfound friend group had ascended to a higher plane of existence, what with not only he and Bokuto getting together but also Yachi and Shimizu. They had entered into an age of romantic fulfillment.

Everything was going so well.

For the most part, anyway.

There was only one roadblock Tsukishima could see, and that was how uncomfortable it made him to be seen with Bokuto in public. Especially if there was a chance that someone he knew might be nearby. He'd never bothered coming out to his roommates, especially after finding out they were slightly homophobic. No one here outside of the art room group knew he wasn't straight. And Bokuto was so very _touchy_, which only got worse the longer they dated. He always wanted to hold hands, was always asking for kisses, didn't seem to care who was watching. And while it was stupid to care who was watching, Tsukishima couldn't seem to help himself.

The good news was, as long as he could keep his public life distinctly separate from his private life, it would never be a problem.

He should have known better than to hope for the best, though.

It happened around noon on a Tuesday. Like every Tuesday around noon, he was going to eat lunch with his roommates. It was just how their schedules worked during the week. He'd never had any reason to be on guard around this time before.

He was walking toward the table he, Akama, and Kuguri always sat at. They had just made eye contact, they were just waving him over. Everything was going exactly the way it always does. Then Tsukishima felt an arm around his shoulder. Spiky, thickly-gelled hair scratched at his shoulder. A voice crowed excitedly in his ear.

"Tsukki! Hi! Bet you didn't expect to see me here, huh?"

Tsukishima froze. He looked over to meet Bokuto's golden eyes, their edges crinkling to match his smile.

"I'm not stalking you, I swear! One of my professors cancelled class today, so I thought I'd try eating here for once. Didn't expect to see you here!"

It was a fight-or-flight kind of moment. Tsukishima looked back over at his roommates, who wore matching expressions of confusion. The degree to which they could make his life hell felt so disproportionately large in that moment. At best they would request a room change and spread rumors behind his back. At worst they would stay, and he'd be coming home every night to open hostility and revulsion.

He barely thought. He just shrugged out from under Bokuto's arm and kept walking without looking behind him. Akama and Kuguri looked at him oddly as he sat down.

"Uh, what just happened?" Kuguri asked. "Who the fuck was that?"

Tsukishima felt a prickly sensation run up his spine. He knew Bokuto was staring after him, and he knew his roommates were staring back, but he didn't look up.

"He's somebody I know from class," Tsukishima lied dismissively. "I don't know why he's always so touchy."

"What a creep."

Tsukishima didn't contradict him. By the time he finally snuck a peek behind him, Bokuto was long gone.

******

He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about the incident all day. It nagged at the back of his mind through his afternoon classes. Akama's lip curling as he called his boyfriend a "creep". The snide comments they'd made through lunch that had been so stomach-churning that Tsukishima could barely force any food into his mouth at all. He felt nauseous for the rest of the day. He had to get this off his chest before it consumed him.

He needed to go to Bokuto and apologize.

When he entered the art room, he was not greeted warmly.

Most of the group had set aside their projects for the day to be there for Bokuto, who was hunched over with his head in his hands when Tsukishima walked in. Kuroo had his hand on his back. Akaashi had pulled up a chair and was right at Bokuto's side. He was the first to look up. Immediately, he was out of his seat and in Tsukishima's face.

"What the FUCK," Akaashi spat, "do you think you're doing here." His face was contorted in an expression of rage Tsukishima would have never thought he was capable of making.

Instinct kicked in, and all Tsukishima could come up with was dry sarcasm. "I...come here almost every day."

"Don't give me that shit," Akaashi snapped back. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Tsukishima took a deep breath, forcing down his inner impulse to fight back. "I came here to apolo-"

"Apologize?! Seriously?! What's _that_ supposed to do?!"

"Tsukki," Bokuto spoke up, voice hoarse and soft. It forced Tsukishima to really take a look at him for the first time that day. He didn't like what he saw. Raw red eyes and lips bleeding from being chewed on. "Be honest with me," he requested. "Are you...embarrassed to be around me?"

"Whoa, whoa, that's not-" Tsukishima backpedaled fast. He tried to explain, but didn't know how. "My roommates just, aren't the best people."

"So instead of standing up for yourself and your boyfriend, you just pretended you didn't know him?!" Akaashi demanded. "How does that make any sense?!"

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't fix anything!" Akaashi was practically foaming at the mouth. "Tell me if the same thing happened again you wouldn't treat Bokuto-san like someone to be ashamed of!"

Tsukishima tried, but he couldn't force himself to lie, to dismiss Akaashi's accusation out of hand. "It's more complicated than-"

"Don't give me that shit!"

"What do you want me to say?!" Tsukishima fired back, losing any semblance of patience or self-control. "That I'm embarrassed to stand in front of my homophobic peers and introduce my loud, obnoxious, overly touchy boyf-"

Tsukishima was suddenly looking at the wall. His cheek stung. His glasses were askew, and it was a miracle that they hadn't gone skidding across the cement floor. Akaashi had slapped him.

On his way back to face Akaashi again, he made the mistake of glancing at Bokuto's face. He looked like the one who had just been slapped. Those wide golden eyes that were already puffy and red were filling up anew with tears that spilled down his face in well-established tracks.

He couldn't meet those eyes any longer, so he looked back at Akaashi, who was struggling to escape from Kuroo's hold. Kuroo's glare was frigid, making it clear how much he wished he could unleash Akaashi and watch the carnage. "I think it's best if you leave," he suggested curtly.

"I was already leaving."

It took Tsukishima until he left the building for the cold wave of reality to strike him down. Suddenly, he could barely stand, had to grab onto a hand rail to keep his legs from giving out under him. It hit like a punch in the gut. That oh-god-what-have-I-done feeling, revulsion and loathing that could only reasonably be directed at himself.

He had just single-handedly destroyed the one good thing that had come out of going away to college. With one boneheaded mistake, not only was his entire friend group gone, but also the warm sense of comfort and acceptance that was just starting to bud in his chest had been snuffed out entirely. In his carelessness, he had alienated himself from everything that made life here worth living. No more lazy autumn afternoon walks around the city. No more gentle teasing and easy conversation. No more soft kisses interspersed with softer words.

He had never felt so alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Tsukishima had barely left his room for five days.

Oh sure, he went to class like normal. He even made sure he ate at least once a day, even though he never felt like it. Other than that, though, he more or less just sat on his bed, occasionally attempting to do homework but mostly just watching movies on his laptop all day. There didn't seem to be any point in doing anything else.

All the emotion had been purged from his system at this point. He barely felt anything except cold. And even just getting out of bed took so much effort he could barely see the point. It's not like there was anything outside of his bed that was worth the effort anyway.

Tsukishima had never particularly had a problem with not having many friends. He was happy to spend most of his time alone. The general consensus of those who met him was that he was just naturally aloof and above everyone, so most people didn't put in the effort to befriend him in the first place. Honestly, though, that impression couldn't be farther from the truth. Being aloof took a lot of work, actually, and it was more a defense mechanism than anything because he'd seen how cruel people could be if you allow yourself to be vulnerable.

Once you open up to someone, you give them the power to hurt you. Tsukishima was not interested in giving that power away to just anyone. He didn't understand people who handed out information about themselves like they had nothing to lose. There's always something to lose, and there's always someone out there who will find it and take it away from you if given the chance.

Not to mention how easy it is to hurt someone without even meaning to. Tsukishima curled up tighter in his blanket. He was, perhaps, not the most in-tune with his emotions, and expressing them in a healthy way? He didn't even know where to begin. It was only a matter of time before he screwed up and burned a bridge he actually cared about.

And now he had done just that, and he didn't know what to do to make it better. After five days of mulling it over, he figured it was time to call in a lifeline. He skyped Yamaguchi, who was more than willing to take a train for a couple hours and come visit in his hour of need.

"Wow, you kinda fucked up, huh?" Yamaguchi observed while sitting cross-legged on Tsukishima's bed.

"I know," Tsukishima groaned. "Everyone knows, we get it. You don't have to tell me that."

Yamaguchi folded his arms. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Do about it?" Tsukishima scoffed. "I already tried apologizing, and I only made things worse."

"Well, first of all, you went in hot without ever actually addressing the root of the problem."

"Is feeling like garbage about what I did not enough for an apology?"

Yamaguchi sighed. "Apologies don't mean anything unless you can honestly say you wouldn't do the same thing again. Some people will accept a half-assed apology, but you can't fault someone for refusing to let themselves be hurt again."

"I wouldn't want to do the same thing again, but," Tsukishima bit his lip, "I can't imagine what I would have done differently."

"That's a sign that we still need to get to the root of the problem. Why did you act in a way that made you feel like garbage?"

Tsukishima thought about it. The things that flashed through his mind in that moment. "I suppose I didn't want to be forced into a situation where my roommates would make my life hell."

"In the dorms, you can always request to switch roommates, right?" Yamaguchi pointed out. "They might actually request to switch first."

"Yeah, but they would... It's not like..." Tsukishima fumbled for words. "I just want to have a say. In who I come out to, and when. I want at least a little control over the narrative, you know?"

"That's not unreasonable," Yamaguchi nodded. "I think that if things had gone differently, Bokuto would have understood that. And now we come to the second problem with your apology." He paused, eyes closed and hand poised on his chin thoughtfully. "I think that if you'd been alone with Bokuto-san, you wouldn't have had such a hard time. From what you said, it sounds like everyone there had only heard Bokuto-san's side so far, and they were prepared to defend him. It's hard to be faced with open hostility and still say what you're really thinking."

"That's a good point." Tsukishima sighed. "But how am I supposed to get any time to talk to him? After what I said, I doubt he'll be willing to just meet up somewhere."

"Yeah, and there's also the fact that he probably thinks you're like, afraid of being seen with him in public now." Yamaguchi paused to consider. "If I were you, I'd go big here. Make a public gesture. Like you said, control the narrative."

"I'm not showing up outside his apartment with a boombox. That's not the answer to everything."

"It could be the answer here if you weren't afraid to enjoy things!"

"Why does it have to be public in the first place?" Tsukishima grimaced. "I don't want a bunch of strangers judging me."

"Listen, Tsukki. You have to stop letting your fear of looking stupid stop you from doing what makes you happy. Clearly, from everything you've told me, this guy makes you happy."

Tsukishima pulled his legs up into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Do you...really think he'll give me another chance? If it was me, I... I don't think I could... I don't know if he'll be able to trust me again." He rested his forehead against his knees, suddenly tired.

Yamaguchi took time to pick his words carefully. "People can hurt each other and still heal," he said after a while. "It takes effort to fix something broken, and it never goes back to the way it was before, but sometimes...that's better."

Yamaguchi had to leave the next day, since he had classes to go to. Tsukishima accompanied him to the train station. They hugged goodbye. It was hard to never see his best friend, but it was nice to know that he wasn't as far away as it felt like he was.

Tsukishima took a risk and texted Misaki. He asked her if she knew anything about Bokuto's schedule, what classes he had and when. After he sent that message, though, he realized how stalker-ish it sounded, and hurriedly typed out an explanation. Before he could send it, to his surprise, she texted back wih just a question. "Are you okay?"

He had to choke down whatever emotion rose in his throat after reading that. Maybe he hadn't alienated himself from everyone he'd called his friends after all. He typed out a text saying that he was okay, but it's been a rough week, and could she please help him make things right?

Misaki texted him back that she knew he had a class on Mondays in the Visual Arts building that ended at 3:00 pm, and also sent him the room number. Then she sent a message that had Tsukishima choking back feelings again.

"Come back soon, we miss you!! It's ok to mess up sometimes (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡"

Even though he wanted to jump the gun, he was careful to wait until around 2:30 to make an appearance in the Visual Arts building, when class was already in session. He wanted to catch Bokuto as class was just getting out. He found a chair close to the door, but not right across from it, and waited.

When the doors opened and students started pouring out, he looked for that familiar head of slicked-up hair. To his surprise, though, when he finally saw Bokuto, his hair was soft and hanging around his face, framing tired eyes and a frown that looked out of place on someone who usually radiated such joy.

Tsukishima stood up and forced himself to speak up before he could walk away. "Um... Bokuto-san," he said, quietly at first.

Bokuto recognized his name and looked up immediately. When he saw who it was, he froze, and his expression shifted through at least three different emotions before he clenched his fists and started walking away.

"Bokuto-san, please, wait!" Tsukishima rushed forward, managing to catch hold of Bokuto's wrist before he could get far. Bokuto didn't wrench his arm free, as Tsukishima feared he might. "Bokuto-san..."

"You should let go, before someone sees you with me," Bokuto muttered without facing him.

"I don't care who sees me with you!" Tsukishima reached around and took hold of Bokuto's other wrist, forcing him to turn around so that they were facing each other, hands clasped between them.

Tsukishima could hear people around them muttering, could see them giving him confused looks as they streamed out of the classroom, but he fought to ignore them. He reminded himself that most people aren't that hateful, and the ones who were didn't matter. He took a deep breath. "Bokuto-san, please look at me."

Bokuto complied with his request, and Tsukishima forced himself to maintain eye contact, to say what he was thinking and not run away from the response. He took a deep, steadying breath. "I should have told you I wasn't out to my roommates, or most people on campus for that matter. I was so afraid of what other people would say that I acted like an asshole and ran away. I...I should have been honest with you, instead of dragging you into my own insecurities. I didn't even think about how it would make you feel, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Bokuto seemed untrusting at first, but as Tsukishima went on, his body language opened up. "So you were just worried about people knowing you're gay?" He backpedaled from there. "I mean, I know how it is to be treated like garbage because of what you like, I just... I'm already over letting people dictate how I live my life. It didn't occur to me that you might not...be there yet."

"I should be there," Tsukishima said bitterly, squeezing Bokuto's wrists tighter. "I shouldn't care what people think about me, but I do, and I don't know how to stop. I just...want you to know that it's not you that I'm ashamed of."

"So you don't-," Bokuto started, then looked down, biting his lip hard. He started again, softer this time, "You don't think I'm obnoxious?"

"No! No no no, I promise I don't," Tsukishima insisted. "I mean, you _are_ loud, and...touchy. But, that doesn't make you obnoxious! Obnoxious is just..." He fumbled for words. "It's a word people use when they see someone having more fun than they are and get jealous."

"Hmm." Bokuto looked like he needed some time to puzzle through that one, but he seemed to accept it for now.

"I don't expect you to trust me again right away," Tsukishima went on, allowing himself to look away. "But...I'd really appreciate it if you gave me another chance."

"Hey, of course I will!" Bokuto reassured with a smile. "If I was going to full on bail every time you were kind of a dick, well, this whole thing wouldn't really work out!"

Tsukishima flashed him a disparaging look, at which Bokuto only smiled harder. Then he sighed, and wrapped his arms around him in a rather uncharacteristic display of affection. He closed his eyes to block out anyone who might be looking at him weird and just, let himself focus on the warmth radiating off Bokuto's body and the odd softness of his usually slicked-up hair.

"Hey, wanna come with me to the usual room?" Bokuto suggested. Tsukishima suppressed a shudder at how close his voice was to his ear. "We've all been kind of worried about you."

"Last time I was there, I narrowly avoided being killed," Tsukishima reminded him, pulling away and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don't worry, even Akaashi admitted he overreacted a bit. If anyone tries to start something, I'll protect you!" He held out his hand like the anime hero he was.

And Tsukishima, like the idiot anti-hero being reluctantly brought over to the good side, went and took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo man! im glad the angst is over, it hurt to write TTvTT  
Just the epilogue to go now guys, it's all fluff from here!


End file.
